


Eye of the Storm

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Lightning Struck [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Comfort, Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Cullenlingus, Dorian is a Good Friend, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor also has issues, Loss of Virginity, Lyrium Withdrawal, Minor Fenris/Female Hawke, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Protective Cullen Rutherford, Romance, Romantic Cullen Rutherford, Slow Burn, Sweet Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 169,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Evelyn is far too naive, young, and overwhelmed by everything asked of her after the Conclave. She tries to put on a brave face, but she's slowly falling apart. Cullen is far too weary, self-loathing, and searching for redemption in his role as Commander of the Inquisition's forces, but he doesn't think he's worth finding any.They both feel broken, but maybe they can find a way to feel whole again.Heavily romance focused novelization of DA:I featuring an age gap, struggles with lyrium withdrawal and trauma, an Inquisitor who's trying to figure out life beyond the Circle for the first time, and new feelings they both don't know what to do with.Explicit smut after a rather long, slow burn, with plenty of angst. Some canon will be glossed over or hinted at.*CURRENTLY UNDERGOING EDITING to reorganize so sorry about the weird formatting changes! Don't worry if the chapter numbers suddenly drastically changes, I'm not deleting anything.*





	1. An Opportunity

Evelyn Trevelyan felt like she hadn’t done much living when she faced the end. Her magic had shown itself fairly early, at the age of seven, and the next thirteen years had been spent in a gilded cage. The Ostwick Circle of Magi was more lenient than others, more relaxed and focused on learning, but still Evelyn had reached the age of twenty with very little to show for how her years had been spent.

She was an accomplished mage, to be sure, but her studies were the only notches in her belt, the only experiences she had ever had. Her delicate white hands had only ever known the work of academia, her fingertips and palms only suffering from paper cuts. She had the hands of a scholar. That may have still been the case even if her magic hadn’t shown itself. She was from a noble family, after all, she may not have ever had to toil a day in her life even without magic. At least out there, though, she would have had a choice one way or another. Now she would never know what may have been.

Yet a year ago everything had changed. Kirkwall had happened. The mages rebelled. She had a chance to do something; but she had known no other life, longed for no other home but the Circle. The chance to take some control over her fate had appeared. But she had hesitated, frozen by the fear of the unknown, unwilling to risk her safety for the chance at freedom.

The Ostwick Circle remained neutral, and was able to stay out of most of the violence. But their neutrality had further secluded them, increasing her gilded cage’s isolation. For the most part, she kept to her studies, pretending as though the world outside wasn’t falling apart. Then the summons came; the Conclave, a last chance at peace between the mages and Templars before their war threw Thedas into further chaos.

She had hardly paid attention to what was going on around her, sheltered as she was, and suddenly she was thrown into the middle of it all. The First Enchanter ordered her to go with their small delegation. The command had been a gentle if not firm push to get out into the world from an older woman who had also only ever known life within the Circle. It was an opportunity to travel, something Evelyn hadn’t done since she was taken to the Circle as a girl. It was an opportunity to make a difference, to see history happen, and maybe help direct its course. The course of all mages, of all Thedas.

Evelyn had been faced with the unknown, terrified and unsure of herself, but she had heeded her mentor’s insistent encouragement to go. The First Enchanter confided in her before she left that she didn’t want her to end up as she had; a caged bird, never knowing life beyond the bars of the Circle.

But now there was just darkness. Evelyn’s short life had ended with a bang, quite literally. She could remember the deafening roar of the explosion, but not what preceded it. Now there was only darkness. She must have been unconscious, waiting to enter the Fade. Maybe she would see Bron again…

They said the ones you loved and lost would greet you when you crossed into the Fade for the last time. Little Bron would be there to greet her. Although vaguely she wondered if he would still be little. It had been years since she had seen him.

Her musings were interrupted by a voice, and rasping, gurgling sounds near her. She felt her brows flinch, trying to frown. Was that Bron who greeted her? Or was it her mother…

The voice called out to her again, more urgently this time. It was female, so it couldn’t be Bron. Perhaps it was her mother, after all, though she hadn’t expected her.

Slowly she opened her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to look around her surroundings. It was definitely the Fade, but it wasn’t any part of it she had ever seen before. It was dark and she could hardly see except for the green mist which surrounded her.

The sounds near her grew louder, and she looked behind her. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she turned and began to run. The gurgling and rasping noises were caused by corpses, rotting, decaying flesh falling off of them as they eagerly struggled toward her. She was going to be surrounded soon.

The voice called out to her again and she looked up to see a woman far above her, lit as though from within, as though she were just light in the form of a woman. She was reaching out a hand to her. Desperate, confused, Evelyn threw herself into a sprint toward the woman and away from the corpses. Up the sloping ground before her, her lungs searing as she tried to reach the outstretched hand...

Her lungs were searing? She stumbled as she was momentarily made aware of how corporeal she felt. She had never felt this physical, this real in the Fade before. And yet she knew she was in the Fade. So how were her lungs searing?

She reached the woman and stretched her arm out, but suddenly the palm of her left hand exploded in agonizing sensation as a green light blinded her. She cried out in pained surprise and sank to her knees, her vision slowly returning as she looked frantically about herself.

No longer the Fade, it couldn’t be…

She saw soldiers running to her, no longer surrounded by living corpses. Instead she knelt amidst smoldering wreckage, ruins, fire, and charred, unmoving corpses. The soldiers were approaching cautiously, awesome terror evident in their eyes. Her vision began to blur, and one last thought of _how?_ crossed her mind before darkness engulfed her once more.

 

* * *

 

“You think I’m responsible?” Evelyn asked the intimidating woman standing before her.

She was trying to wrap her head around what she was being accused of. The Conclave destroyed, the Divine killed…and they said she had walked out of the Fade itself. She stared down at the glowing green mark emblazoned on her left palm. It was throbbing with pain, her whole arm twitching in agony as she stared at it, trying to understand. She couldn’t remember a thing, save for running, and a faceless woman made of pure light. She wanted to cry. She wanted to wake up; surely this was a dream, surely this was a trick of the Fade.

No one could enter the Fade physically, not even a mage.

The woman, a Seeker named Cassandra, pulled her to her feet and marched her from the room, silently guiding her by the vice-like grip she had on Evelyn’s upper arm. As they passed through the gathered crowd, murmurs and eyes followed her, some of which were filled with tears, some fear, others hatred. She lowered her gaze, avoiding their stares and letting the Seeker lead her where she may. Evelyn was beyond caring what happened.

Until Cassandra led her outside and her eyes fell upon the heavens.

A swirling vortex of green took up almost the entire sky above the mountains, large masses of ruin and debris swirling among emerald green clouds. It was ominous, looming above all of Thedas with imminent threat. She stared at it, her mouth hanging open as she tried to comprehend.

Another painful stab tore through her newly marked palm as it glowed anew and she cried out, falling to her knees momentarily blinded by the agony.

Cassandra knelt before her, a grim look in her eyes. “Every time the Breach expands, your mark does as well – and it is killing you,” the Seeker informed her, her voice breaking slightly with the weight of her words.

Evelyn took deep breaths, trying to clear the fog of pain from her mind. “You still think I did this? To myself?” she questioned, lifting her blurry vision to the other woman’s dark eyes.

“Not intentionally,” Cassandra replied, helping to lift Evelyn to a standing position once more. Her hands were still bound, and Cassandra stared at the binds for a moment, and the glowing mark.

“If there is any chance of closing the Breach -”

“I’ll do what I can to help,” Evelyn interjected. Cassandra raised her eyebrows as she stared at her, but if she wasn’t mistaken, it almost looked like the Seeker approved of her words. She hadn’t meant to sound so eager, but the sight of the Breach had terrified her. If she had a chance to do something about it, to be helpful, she had to take it.

“Let us be on, then,” and with that the Seeker turned and led Evelyn through the rest of the village.

Evelyn continued to avoid the stares of everyone they passed, keeping her eyes downcast and focused on her steps. She noticed that the Seeker’s grip on her arm was looser than it had been previously, as though she only meant to guide her the right way and keep up the appearance that she was dragging her for the benefit of the onlookers.

“Open the gates,” she commanded when they reached the gates of the village to continue into the mountains. As the soldiers at the gate complied, Cassandra turned and pulled a dagger from her belt. She cut the rope that bound Evelyn’s wrists and threw it aside.

Evelyn rubbed her chafed wrists with a sigh of relief, and she noticed the Seeker watching her warily for a moment before she turned and led the way out of the gate.

They followed the path for a while, but another surge of stabbing pain ran up and down Evelyn’s left arm and she fell once more to her knees, bruising them with the impact. She had never felt anything like it, feeling as though her entire arm was going to explode, or fall off of her.

At her cry, Cassandra turned and took a few steps to close the distance between them. The Seeker knelt and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not much farther, now,” she reassured her. Again, she reached beneath Evelyn’s arms and helped her to her feet.

Evelyn mentally shook herself; as much as she wanted to believe this was a dream of the Fade, the intense throbbing in her hand told her otherwise. No pain in the Fade ever felt so authentic.

The silent pair was halfway across a bridge bustling with soldiers and healers when a bolt of green rained down from the sky like a meteor and everything around them exploded. Evelyn felt the ground shift beneath her feet and she fell as the bridge beneath her collapsed. She landed roughly on the frozen river beneath them, her shoulder colliding roughly before she finally rolled to a stop. Cassandra was struggling to push herself to her feet beside her on the ice.

“Demons!” the other woman called out suddenly, and she picked her shield and sword up from where they had fallen. “Stay behind me!”

Evelyn pushed herself to her feet and watched as the Seeker charged the shades that were coming across the ice toward them. But behind the Seeker, another shade turned its faceless hood toward Evelyn, and began to make its way toward her. Cassandra didn’t see it.

By some divine providence, Evelyn saw a staff lying near her, no doubt thrown from one of the healers now caught up in the bridge’s wreckage. She stumbled over to it, her feet sliding on the ice as she tried to maneuver through the debris. She didn’t need a staff to channel her magic, but she hadn’t ever been in a fight before and appreciated the idea of a staff’s assistance with her focus. She snatched the staff up and felt the usual tingle and surge of her energy when her hand came in contact with the enchanted wood.

_Finally, something familiar._

Electricity crackled through the air around her as she focused, turning her mind inward as she conjured up her training and the lightning that seemed to run through her veins. Evelyn pictured the targets she used to practice this on, harmless poles of metal as the Senior Enchanters encouraged her to concentrate. The shade was closer now, and she took a steadying breath as she felt the sparks sizzle between her fingers. She raised her hand, and a single bolt of lightning struck the shade so powerfully it was shocked, paralyzed by the strike.

Evelyn twirled her staff as she always did, taking advantage of the shade’s momentary halt to throw smaller bolts of lightning at it. The electricity charged through her fingers until the wood of the staff hummed with its energy and released the excess in the direction of her opponent in bursts. The storm within her was also around her, and when the shade tried to approach her, another bolt of lightning struck it, as though a tempest hung above Evelyn and shielded her from harm. The shade finally gave an eerie wail and began to disappear as though disintegrating from her attacks.

From her right, Cassandra charged with her shield and sword drawn, but Evelyn saw no other demons. It took her a moment to realize the Seeker was pointing her weapon at her.

“Drop your weapon!” Cassandra commanded, still in a battle stance, ready to take Evelyn on if she dared to disobey.

Evelyn stared at the other woman, and she tightened her grip on her staff. It continued to buzz with the energy her fingers contained. “I don’t need a staff to do magic,” she pointed out flatly. “And I haven’t tried to use magic on you, yet, have I?”

Cassandra eyed the staff warily, and then began to straighten, relaxing her shield and sword. She gave Evelyn a disapproving frown, but she sheathed her sword all the same. “You’re right,” she conceded. “I should try to remember that you agreed to come willingly. And you should have a staff. I can’t protect you all the time.”

Evelyn nodded at Cassandra gratefully and loosened her hold on her staff, and its hum of energy faded. The Seeker jerked her head in the direction of the path they had been on and Evelyn followed her silently. They continued on their trek toward the Breach, coming across demons as they went and working together to take them down.

Cassandra seemed silently impressed with Evelyn’s actions, watching her closely as she finished off another shade with a twirl of her staff. “We’re almost there,” Cassandra said as she led the way up stairs carved into the hillside.

The Seeker charged ahead and Evelyn ran to catch up, quickly out of breath as she mounted the stairs as quickly as she could. She had never had this much activity at the Circle, and she was struggling to keep up. Ahead of them she could hear the sounds of a battle, and the green glow of the Breach seemed brighter somehow, closer and more tangible as they approached.

An Elven mage and a Dwarf with an impressive crossbow were fighting alongside soldiers, demons pouring out of a glowing green tear above them. Evelyn slowed her run, staring in disbelief at the sight of what seemed to be a smaller version of the Breach above them.

“Is that -” she began, but a shade charged her and she cut off her question as she instinctively threw a shimmering, electrical barrier around herself.

For a few moments, battle was the only thing she could focus on. She threw lightning at the demons, and watched in satisfaction as it jumped between the demons but didn’t harm any of the fighters on her side. Practice in the Circle in that regard had always been hypothetical; to see that she could pull off that precision when it counted most pleased her.

Cassandra had already gotten into the rhythm of battle with Evelyn. She knew to look for the enemies paralyzed by the shocking energy of the mage’s magic, swiftly cutting them down while they were vulnerable. When the last demon fell, the green energy above them seemed to change and become formless, struggling to return to its previous form, the jagged portal in the air that it seemed to be.

“Seal it, now!” the elven mage cried, and he grabbed Evelyn’s wrist and thrust her marked palm toward the rift.

She felt a throbbing pain, but also something else; she felt an invisible, tangible energy that she knew she could direct. She concentrated on it, turning her hand as one might a key as she tried with all her might to seal the green rift above her. The rift gave one last burst of energy, knocking them all back a few steps, and then all was still. The elf dropped her wrist and stared at her, a look of surprise and triumph in his slanted eyes.

“You did it!” Cassandra cried behind her, wonder evident in her voice. Evelyn turned to face her, and they exchanged a meaningful look. Evelyn hadn’t been sure she could actually do anything to help when she’d offered, but now she knew she could. She found herself resolved to see this through.

“It appears she did,” the Elf chimed in, still watching Evelyn closely. His voice was deep, each of his words sounding careful and measured as he spoke. Cassandra introduced him as Solas, an apostate mage who had come for the Conclave.

“You weren’t a part of the Circle?” Evelyn asked, unable to fathom a life of magic outside of the Circle of Magi. She couldn’t tell if it was jealousy she felt, or just curiosity.

He gave a small chuckle. “No, I was not.”

“Solas is an expert on the Fade,” Cassandra remarked. “He stayed to help keep you alive after you walked out of the Fade.”

“I didn’t realize,” Evelyn murmured. “Thank you, Solas.”

“You can repay him by fixing the hole in the sky,” the dwarf interjected.

Evelyn turned to him, studying him carefully. She had met few dwarves in her life, but she could already tell he was different from any she had met. For one, the front of his coat was open with roguish flare, exposing his curly golden chest hair. He lacked a full beard, only sporting light stubble; she didn’t think she had ever seen a dwarf without a beard, and she frowned at the sight. He was a puzzle, and she found she wanted to get to know him better.

He returned his magnificent crossbow to his back as he smiled at her, and then looked to the Seeker, who was scowling at him. “Since we’re making introductions - Varric Tethras, at your service,” he gave a half-bow in Evelyn’s direction, and she acknowledged him with a nod and a small smile. Varric had an easy friendliness to him, and she warmed to him, recognizing a potential ally quickly.

“I realize,” Cassandra said with sudden shock as she too looked at Evelyn. “I do not know your name. We tried to identify you, while you were unconscious, but we had no way…”

“Evelyn,” she replied steadily. “Evelyn Trevelyan.” The Seeker’s eyebrows raised.

“Trevelyan?” Evelyn nodded silently to the Seeker’s recognition, the rest of her inquiry hanging between them unspoken; the Trevelyan family was well known even outside of the Free Marches.

“Well, _Lady_ Trevalyan, shall we?” Varric asked, his voice casual and light, as though they weren’t faced with a sky that was tearing open.

Evelyn gave a small smile at his joking, gentlemanly gesture for her to precede him. She couldn’t precisely place his accent, but it was definitely from somewhere in the Free Marches. Cassandra turned to lead the way down the path toward the Breach and the Temple’s ruins. The Seeker’s brows were furrowed, as though she were lost in thought.

The four of them continued walking, occasionally fighting off demons that blocked their path. As they walked on, Varric made small talk, trying to ease the tension. Solas said little, except if it pertained to the Breach or the rifts, and Cassandra forged ahead, still frowning as though deep in thought. She could be brought out of her musings by Varric’s teasing commentary it seemed, scornfully responding to his poking and prodding, exasperation evident every time she did so.

Evelyn’s brow cocked at these responses, amused at the dynamic between the two. She wondered what had brought them together; Varric’s name had sounded familiar, as though she had heard it mentioned in conversation before. She couldn’t remember where…

Another rift was before them, blocking the gate that led to the forward camp. Evelyn tightened her grip on her staff and threw up an electrical barrier around herself, and noticed that it shimmered in front of the other three as well. It must have been more powerful than she had anticipated, since it extended to those around her.

She wasn’t displeased by this development; indeed, continuing to put her skills to use was oddly thrilling. If this hadn’t happened, would she have simply continued to study skills she may never have used for any purpose other than studying, stuck in an endless loop of learning and training without intent?

Again, her lightning bounced from demon to demon, leaving her party members unscathed as it crackled and surged through the battle. Any shade that came near her was again struck by lightning that seemingly conjured itself to defend Evelyn where she stood. The First Enchanter had always marveled at Evelyn’s effortless ability to call lightning to her like this, and remarked frequently that it was as though Evelyn carried a storm within her. She had always had an affinity for lightning magic, even feeling the magic coursing through her body as a tingling, electrical current even when not casting spells. It felt like the core of her very being.

The four of them quickly dispatched the shades that poured through the rift, and Solas again encouraged Evelyn to use her mark to seal it before more could arrive. She threw her marked palm into the air, again feeling that energy course through her, different from the usual electrical current. She focused on the different feeling, and turned and twisted it until the rift sealed. Above them she heard cries of triumph; the soldiers on the gate’s ramparts were celebrating.

“The rift is sealed, open the gates!” Cassandra called, and the gate creaked open to let them pass.

The bridge they were upon was bustling with activity; healers were running to wounded soldiers lining the stone barrier on each side, soldiers were regrouping and running further down the bridge, toward the Temple. In the center was a Chantry cleric bent over a table, arguing with the other woman who had interrogated Evelyn.

Cassandra led their small party toward the argument, and as soon as the cleric saw Evelyn he pointed a finger and let out a strangled cry. “Why is the prisoner here? Clap her in irons, send her to Val Royeaux -”

“We don’t have time,” Cassandra snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “She may be able to close the Breach, and I intend to let her try.”

“You intend to let the mage who caused this mess try to fix it?” the cleric cried shrilly. “It could be a trap, she could -”

“Chancellor Roderick,” the other woman interrupted. She was Orlesian, her harsh tone softened slightly by the accented lilt of her voice. Her eyes were hard, though, her gaze piercing enough that the cleric stopped speaking at once. “This woman may be our only hope of fixing this problem.”

The cleric scoffed, but before he could continue his objections, Cassandra and the other woman began planning the best way to approach the Temple and the Breach. “My scouts could get us through the pass undetected,” the Orlesian woman said, but Cassandra shook her head.

“There’s too few of them, Leliana,” Cassandra countered. “We should take a direct approach, charge from the front with all of our soldiers. It’s the fastest route, it could be our only chance to make it through the demons.”

They continued debating for several more moments, Roderick interjecting himself into the conversation; Evelyn wondered if he only did that to feel important. She noticed a need to seem important in the way he carried himself, and it came off as incredibly pompous. He was glaring at her, and suddenly she realized all three of them were staring at her. She had tuned out the actual words they were saying, only listening to their tones as she tried to push the pain out of her mind, focusing instead on her old habit of watching people to distract herself from the throbbing in her palm.

“Well?” Cassandra prompted her.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“You’re the one we need to get to the Breach,” Leliana remarked. “It seems fitting we let you have a say in how you get there.”

Evelyn raised her eyebrows, surprised. They wanted her to decide? Her palm gave another painful twinge and she gritted her teeth against the pain. Cassandra noticed and folded her arms, concern evident on her face.

Evelyn was momentarily surprised by the continual anxiety Cassandra had about her well-being, considering how sure she had been of her guilt not long before. She decided it had to be because Evelyn was their best chance to stop the Breach.

“The forward charge,” Evelyn muttered, rubbing the glowing mark with her other hand. “We need to get this over with as soon as possible.”

Leliana and Cassandra nodded gravely. “Leliana, gather everyone. We’ll head to the front.”

“Maker be with you,” Leliana said, and she turned to gather the soldiers who remained on the bridge.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” Chancellor Roderick spat as Cassandra led the other three toward the gate at the end of the bridge. Evelyn wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it almost seemed as though Cassandra’s back stiffened, her head lifting ever so slightly at the sound of the cleric’s harsh words. For a moment, Evelyn found herself feeling sorry for the other woman.

“Open the gate,” Cassandra called, and the gate before them rumbled.

The sound of battle intensified as the towering wooden doors creaked open, and Evelyn gripped her staff more tightly, readying herself for a fight once more. She felt her energy flagging, but she steeled herself against her exhaustion. She was almost done; whatever happened to her when she attempted to close the Breach - that would be it.

If it killed her, if it didn’t work, or even if it did; that would be the end of it. She welcomed the inevitable conclusion, whichever way things went. This was her first chance to do anything important with her life, and she had to see it through.

Cassandra led the charge out of the gate, Evelyn and the others close behind her. They ran forward, another rift in their way, demons clashing with soldiers who were defending the gate. Evelyn ran into the thick of things, focusing her fading energy into a shimmering barrier, and she noticed it spread to all of the allies surrounding her, providing them with a bit more protection against the demons and shades that attacked them.

One of the soldiers turned in surprise to look over his shoulder, trying to determine the source of magic that suddenly shielded him. He was unusually tall, with wavy, golden hair, and his vast shoulders were covered by a red cloak adorned with a reddish brown fur mantle. His eyes widened when he saw her, and for a moment he was entirely distracted from the battle by her actions.

A shade seemed to decide now was its moment to strike, but before it could, Evelyn sent a bolt of lightning at its lunging form, and it stumbled away from the man. The warrior regained his senses and turned, taking advantage of the paralyzed state of the shade to strike it down.

After a few more hurried minutes of battle, the last of the demons disintegrated under the electrical onslaught of Evelyn’s magic. She rushed forward and thrust her marked palm at the rift before any more demons could escape. Again she twisted and clenched her fist, imagining a lock sliding into place as she did so, and the rift sealed before her.

She dropped her arm and bent over, her palms on her knees as she tried to catch her breath; she wasn’t sure how much more she could exert herself.

 _Just a little longer_ , she pushed herself. _You’re almost done, no matter what happens._

“Sealed, as before,” Solas said behind her. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric mused wryly.

Evelyn half-smiled to herself at his humor, but she kept her head down, eyes tightly shut as she tried to collect herself.

“Commander,” Cassandra called out, and Evelyn looked up to see who she addressed.

It was the man who had turned, who had been surprised by her magic. He was helping an injured soldier to his feet, and he made sure the man was steady before he turned to face Cassandra.

“Lady Cassandra,” he nodded. “You managed to close the rift. Well done.”

“Do not congratulate me, Commander,” Cassandra corrected him. She turned to face Evelyn, drawing the Commander’s eyes to her as well. “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

“Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here,” the Commander stared at her, the look in his steady gaze indecipherable as he addressed her.

This close, Evelyn could see that his eyes were a golden shade of amber, and despite the guarded look he gave her, she detected a warmth beneath his current reserve. The feeling encouraged her, and made her feel an easy trust for the man, even if it seemed he may not feel the same could be said of her.

She knew her eyes were sometimes, for lack of a better word, shocking to people; they were so piercing, so vibrant that they could be unnerving. She could tell he had noticed, and he frowned slightly as he looked at her.

Evelyn noticed his eyes momentarily glance at her staff before returning to her face. “You’re not the only one hoping that,” she agreed finally.

He held her gaze a moment longer before giving a curt nod.

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we,” he turned back to Cassandra. “The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we best move quickly,” Cassandra nodded. “Give us time, Commander.”

The Commander began to walk away, toward another wounded, limping soldier. He turned back. “Maker watch over you, for all our sakes.”

He nodded at Cassandra one last time, and gave that same indecipherable look to Evelyn before he grabbed the limping soldier’s arm and pulled it across his shoulder, bending down to accommodate the other man’s hunched gait as he helped escort him back to the gate.

“Let’s go,” Cassandra commanded, and the four of them turned and continued down the path.

They reached the Temple’s ruins, and Evelyn halted her step when she saw the destruction before her. Only debris remained where the magnificent Temple of Sacred Ashes had once stood, and scattered around were charred corpses, some frozen in prostrate, terrified postures, only pillars of solid ash that spoke of the horror they had experienced here.

A lump caught in her throat, and she felt a light tug at her arm as she continued staring in disbelief at what she saw. She looked down to see Varric pulling gently at her sleeve, encouraging her wordlessly on. It was quite a change from his previous humor, to see him looking at her so sadly, so understandingly. Somehow, the unspoken support behind his gentle tugging helped snap her out of her silent dismay, and she managed to force her feet on to follow the Seeker and the others.

The four of them wound their way through the wreckage, following the path of what had once been hallways as they made their way to the center of the temple and the site of the Breach. They continued in silence until suddenly their path became littered with a scattering of red, pulsating stalactites, seeming to grow out of the ground itself along the walls’s debris. Evelyn felt a tingling run through her that she normally associated with lyrium, only something felt very wrong.

“Seeker,” Varric muttered, and this time it was his step that faltered as he stared at the pulsating ore surrounding them as they continued venturing further into the Temple ruins. “That’s…”

“I see it, Varric,” Cassandra replied grimly.

“Red. Lyrium,” Varric emphasized.

“Yes.”

“But what’s it doing here,” he stressed the last word with heavy significance. Evelyn quirked a brow.

“What’s red lyrium?” she asked.

“It’s really bad shit,” Varric supplied. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

Before Evelyn could ask him to expand on his answer, a deep echoing voice rang through the air, and chills ran down her spine as she spun around, looking for the source. It pulled at her consciousness, and she tried to follow the threads of memory that sprang up in her mind, but it was like trying to remember a fleeting dream upon waking. _“_

 _Now is the hour of our triumph_ ,” the voice rumbled. _“Bring forth the sacrifice.”_

“What is that?” Cassandra called out, looking about her as she tried to place where the voice was coming from.

“An echo,” Solas said. “The Veil is thin here.”

 _“Someone – please – help me!”_ another voice, this time female, echoed desperately around them.

“That is the Divine!” Cassandra stopped in her tracks, looking around wildly as though she might see the Divine nearby.

 _“What’s going on here?”_ another, very familiar voice echoed.

Evelyn stopped in her tracks. But…

Cassandra whirled to face her, her face contorted. “That – that is your voice! You _were_ there!” she sounded like she was accusing her.

 _“Please help me – warn them!”_ the echo of the Divine continued before the ruins fell eerily silent around them as the echoes died.

Cassandra was still glaring at Evelyn and she took a few steps toward her. “She called out to you, for help!” the Seeker sounded shocked, incredulous. “Who attacked? Where is the Divine? What happened?”

“I – I can’t remember,” Evelyn stuttered, just as shocked to hear her own voice echoing around them as Cassandra had been.

The Seeker stared at her, glaring as she held her eyes, as though she could find the answer behind Evelyn’s piercing gaze.

“Let us carry on,” Solas gently urged them, and their small party continued on their way, Cassandra casting suspicious glances at Evelyn as they did so.

They turned the final corner, and were above what had been the center of the Temple. But in its place was a large tower of red lyrium, growing grotesquely as though a deadly weed. The debris around them was deteriorating, being pulled slowly into the air toward the epicenter of the Breach. It sprawled across every bit of sky in view, glowing malevolently as the vortex swirled around itself.

Everything felt wrong about this place; Solas had been right, the Veil was thin here. Evelyn could feel her skin tingling, hairs on the back of her neck standing as the air pulsated with unsuppressed magical energy around them. She was almost struggling to breathe, the magic permeating the air was so thick it was suffocating, nearly tangible. The lightning in her veins tingled more intensely, and the mark on her hand gave another sharp, agonizing jolt of pain. She tried to keep from crying out when she felt it and bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

“Come on,” she gritted out, and pushed her way forward to head toward the expanding rift beside the towering red lyrium.

Cassandra followed her closely, looking everything over to assess the situation. Solas approached slowly, his brow furrowed as he also analyzed and reached his own conclusions.

“This is it, the rift at the center of everything,” Solas informed them. “It is closed at the moment, but if we open it, you should be able to stabilize it, preventing further tearing.”

Evelyn nodded at him, taking a calming breath. Her hands shook, one from pain, the other from nerves.

“It will attract attention from the other side,” Solas looked at Cassandra, and she gave a curt nod.

“That means demons,” she said, and she looked at the gathering forces of soldiers behind them. Evelyn could see the Commander and Leliana at the front of the masses. “Be ready!” Cassandra called to everyone, and Evelyn saw an uneasy shift ripple through the soldiers as they steeled themselves for battle.

Evelyn gripped her staff, feeling her magic surge through it. She locked eyes with Cassandra, and realized the Seeker was waiting for her. She nodded, and the other woman readied her shield and sword before herself.

Evelyn gazed at the rift, and slowly lifted her glowing palm toward it. She felt a stab of pain, her arm shook as it coursed through her. She took a deep breath and refocused herself, pushing the pained fog from her mind.

_Finish this, it’s almost over…_

She clenched her fist and felt the now familiar force surge through her, and this time reversed the motion. She opened her hand, twisting it as though to unlock, to turn a doorknob for entrance. The force blasted the rift open, and green energy exploded and again landed around them like meteors as demons rained down from the rift.

A large roar rent the air as a towering horned Pride Demon pushed its way through the rift. Evelyn reflexively threw up her shimmering barrier as it charged Cassandra, and she saw the demon’s first strike bounce off with a spark as it collided with the timely defenses Evelyn had conjured.

Shades were slithering through the battle, trying to catch soldiers unaware, and Evelyn focused on throwing bouncing lightning at them, the shock of the bolts providing her allies a chance to overwhelm them before they recovered.

“It’s no use!” Cassandra yelled over the cacophony of battle clashes. “It is impenetrable!”

“There must be something!” Solas called as he threw the demons surrounding him back with a blast of arcane energy.

Evelyn looked around wildly, and noticed a pulsing energy that seemed to connect the Pride Demon to the open rift. It was drawing strength from the open gateway to the Fade. She dashed forward, weaving her way through the fight to get closer to the rift, and she stopped beneath it, thrusting her marked palm toward it. She felt the energy channel through her, and she tried to seal the rift, or at least distort it to interrupt the demon’s connection.

There was another roar from her right as the rift shifted and burst, and she heard Cassandra’s triumphant cry answering the demon’s howl as her sword finally made contact. Evelyn threw another chain of lightning through the battle, watching as shades disintegrated as they were struck, while Cassandra and the Commander led the assault on the now vulnerable Pride Demon. With several powerful strokes from both warriors, the demon collapsed before them, and Cassandra ran her sword through one of the demon’s many eyes, piercing through the back of its skull.

“Now!” Solas bellowed, and Evelyn threw her palm up, once more envisioning a powerful lock and key.

But something was different; this rift was so much stronger than the others, being the eye of the storm. As she felt the rift seal, an unbearable pain tore through her, starting in her hand and coursing through her body until she felt sure she would explode, her mind feeling torn in two.

She screamed. Her body felt like it was on fire, nothing but white in her vision as the agony blinded her completely to her surroundings. This was death, surely, for no one could survive this feeling. Evelyn found she didn’t care. As her consciousness slipped away, her last thought trailed off as darkness finally consumed her.

 _Finished_ …


	2. Eyes Like Lightning

Cassandra was pushing her way forward beside him, her hands on the shoulders of soldiers to force them out of her way. He ran ahead, barreling past those in front of him, less gentle in his desperate haste. The scream had torn through him, cut him to the core. It was a sound that reminded him too much of memories he long wished buried, memories of unbearable torment.

He sprinted until he reached her, her petite form crumpled on her knees. She was losing consciousness, beginning to fall sideways as he approached, and he quickly threw himself to her side to catch her. She slumped into him, her breathing shallow as he pulled her against his chest. He slipped an arm under her legs, his other around her narrow shoulders, lifting her effortlessly.

 _Maker_ , he wondered to himself, _she’s so small - and yet she had saved them._

Commander Cullen turned, carrying the fragile burden in his arms as he began to make his way back through the Temple ruins. His soldiers parted, letting him pass easily, many falling to their knees in reverence, heads bowed in grateful prayer.

 _She had saved them_.

Cassandra fell into step beside him, concern etched on her sharp features as she followed. Leliana soon joined them, straining to peer into the face of the one he held so close against his chest.

“But she is so young!” Leliana finally declared, and she glanced around at Cassandra. “Did you ever even discover her name?”

“Lady Evelyn Trevelyan,” Cassandra replied.

“Trevelyan?” the Orlesian sounded surprised, an unusual response from their usually stoic spymaster. “A noble mage? How fascinating…” her lilting voice trailed off, and she became lost in thought as she walked quickly beside the other two.

“Cullen, is she -” Cassandra began, but her voice broke off. She couldn’t seem to finish the thought.

“She’s alive,” Cullen replied, but he quickened his pace despite his words, his arms tightening around the one he held.

Footsteps sounded behind them, someone running to catch up. “Is she -” a male voice chimed in, also unable to finish the question.

Cullen vaguely recognized the elven apostate’s measured voice as he fell into step as they wove their way through the lines of soldiers. Many were still throwing themselves to their knees to worship at the passing of the one who had saved them, tears streaming down their cheeks as they thanked Andraste and the Maker.

“Alive,” Cassandra answered the mage.

“Good,” Solas replied, and he thoughtfully clasped his hands behind his back as he effortlessly strolled alongside them.

They continued their passage back to Haven in silence. Cullen set their rapid pace, his long-legged strides forcing the two women into a half-trot to keep up, the elven mage taking up the rear as though this were a pleasant walk through a garden.

Occasionally the Commander glanced down at the one he held, still marveling at she who had accomplished what they had thought impossible, and had survived it. He thought of the way she had moved through battle, the way she had thrown barriers before them all to protect them, even him. Strangers who had accused her of a horrible crime, and yet she had taken it as a chance to prove herself to them. She hadn’t tried to flee, hadn’t tried to hurt any of them. Instead, she had done what she could to save them, despite the accusations and distrust. He had never expected that of a mage, especially not one who had been cornered and defenseless as she had been. He was puzzled.

He couldn’t see her face at the moment; her chin was hanging limply down to her chest, head softly bobbing as he walked. All he could see was the raven black hair on the top of her head, reflecting almost blue as it glinted in the light. She had it pulled into a long braid, which draped over his arm, swaying in tandem with his brisk steps. Pieces of hair had come loose around her face in the exertion of battle, and he knew they framed an gracefully angular, oval face, the deep black strands standing out sharply against the prominent lily white cheek bones.

He had become familiar with her features during the days she had been unconscious, when they had all worried over her fate and their own, unsure if she was responsible or a victim of circumstance. In the moments between leading charges to defend the village and consulting Leliana and Cassandra, he had peered into the room to check on her where she slept, trapped in fitful dreams. Solas and the healer Adan sat by her side, tirelessly trying to keep her alive, doing their best to soothe her when she thrashed or murmured in response to her delirium.

He had noticed her youth, her elegant features, and had frowned as he grimly considered what would happen to all of them if she never awoke from her unnatural slumber. He’d found himself praying to the Maker, not just for her sake, but for all of theirs – he prayed for a savior.

He knew now, too, what color the eyes would be if they had been able to open. He had noticed them on the battlefield when he had looked at her, finally awake and standing so close before him. For a moment he had been so thrown by the way she seemed to peer into his deepest thoughts that he had been at a loss for words.

 _Eyes the color of lightning_.

He knew of no other way to describe the intriguing color of her eyes. They were so clear, barely translucent aqua and sea green until they almost looked white in the light. The bright irises were ringed by a deep blue instead of black, the way the sky would frame a lightning bolt during a storm. They seemed to change and reflect everything, full of sparks, full of energy and wonder.

They had unnerved him, but it hadn’t necessarily been a horrible feeling, he mused curiously. He remembered in his time as a Templar that some mages who were predisposed to certain schools of magic had sometimes had unusual eyes as though they reflected the energy they carried within them. Some of the fire mages had made him nervous, their orange and red flecked eyes seeming to burn him every time they looked his way.

He had never seen one similar to hers, though. He remembered how the barrier she had thrown around him had crackled as it sprang into being, and she had seemingly summoned a storm at the shade that tried to strike him. It had been an unusual display of raw power.

He shifted her slightly in his arms, not because of her weight but because of his sudden wariness that he held a mage in his arms. It wasn’t entirely that, he realized, but the circumstances surrounding who she was. A mage, who had walked out of the Fade with the ability to stop the Breach from tearing the sky apart.

The knowledge was daunting, and while he felt incredible gratitude and a sudden deep, spiritual reverence of her, he felt caution as well. After all, how much did they know about her? For days they hadn’t even known her name or where she had come from; they still didn’t fully know. But now she was their savior, this young mage who had the ability to close rifts, who had helped try to save them even though they had held her prisoner.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her.

They reached the gates of Haven, and Cullen snapped out of his musings and called out an order to the men manning them. The massive doors began to open, and he walked up the steps to enter the village. Their small group was met by a crowd of villagers and soldiers alike, all straining to see the small figure in the Commander’s arms.

Cassandra rushed ahead of him and began calling for the crowd to clear a path to let them pass. Hushed whispers swirled around them, met occasionally with an emotional sob piecing the air.

_"Andraste – the Maker sent her!”_

_"She saved us! Maker, a mage – who would have thought!”_

_“Thank the Maker!”_

_“It was Andraste – Andraste sent her to us from the Fade!”_

_“Is she dead?”_

_“She’s not moving! Oh Maker – please, save her!”_

 The whispers and cries continued as Cullen made his way further into the village, turning left, following Cassandra to an unoccupied hut, and he saw Leliana leave his side and push her way through the crowd to find Adan. Cassandra cleared the path to the door and opened it wide, standing aside to let him pass.

Cullen stooped and turned sideways to sidle through the door, taking care not to bump the door frame with the delicate figure he cradled. Solas and Cassandra followed him, and soon Adan and Leliana ran into the small one room hut, Adan clutching his staff and a satchel that contained his healing poultices.

Cassandra pulled the sheets back on the bed, and Cullen knelt one knee onto the mattress, laying Evelyn softly on her back. She stirred ever so slightly as he removed his arms from under her, a soft groan escaping her lips.

“Quickly,” Solas whispered to Adan, and the two men pushed Cullen aside and began their work, a soft green glow pouring from their hands as they hovered over the prostrate figure before them, healing her with their magic.

Cullen stepped back, his part played, but he found himself hovering, uncertain and longing to help, or at least to watch over their progress and make sure she was all right.

 _Maker, let her be all right – she shouldn’t have to give her life for us_.

He seemed only to be in the way, though, as Solas and Adan continued their ministrations, and Cassandra and Leliana fussed, removing her boots and the now battle-stained bodice that she wore over her robes. They stripped her to her smallclothes, and Cullen’s gaze wandered over her slender form impulsively.

He took in the soft curve of her hips and the slope of her breasts above the band of cloth that covered them before he felt his cheeks grow hot and he turned away, remembering himself as shame washed over him. He decided he had deprived himself of female companionship for too long, that was all, and he cleared his throat lightly as he tried to forget what he’d seen.

The group around the bed continued for a few more moments, and Cullen stared in the opposite direction from her, wondering if he should just leave. Just as he shifted, intending to depart, he felt Leliana and Cassandra step over to stand and wait with him.

“She will be fine,” Solas declared finally, turning away from the bed and walking over to join their cluster. “She is drained, in need of rest, but all should be better after a good night’s sleep.”

Cullen released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and he turned to look back at the bed. They had tucked the sheets around her, and she finally looked peaceful, reclining on the pillows, her long braid lying over her shoulder, one hand resting on her belly above the sheets. He realized it was her left, the one that held the mark, for its bright green color stood out against the dull beige of the blankets and the white of her palm.

“The mark remains,” Solas told them, as though he realized where the Commander was looking. “But it is stable, and is no longer a threat to her life.”

“That is good news,” Leliana remarked, folding her arms as she observed the woman on the bed. “But what of the Breach? I couldn’t help but notice it also remains, though it seems changed.”

“It is no longer expanding,” Solas said. “But yes, it remains.”

“Then we must find a way to close it, once and for all,” Cassandra asserted, her tone firm and confident once more.

“Adan can keep watch at her bedside – may I suggest we go elsewhere to discuss our options?” Solas suggested, gesturing with his hand to the door. Cassandra and Leliana silently consented, and Cullen followed the trio to the door, turning to look back at the slumbering figure before closing the door behind them.


	3. Herald

Slowly she felt herself swimming up through the last remains of unconsciousness, gradually becoming aware of the sound of birds singing and the hum of people talking in the distance. She felt surprised that her sleep had been dreamless, and she wondered for a moment why that was. It was as though she was so exhausted she hadn’t even tried to wander the Fade as she slept.

She moved her left arm, which felt cold, exposed as it was on the outside of the blankets, and the movement was met with a stiffness and aching pain throughout every muscle as it flexed. She flinched, and fluttered her eyes open gradually, squinting when she was met with bright sunlight filtering in through the windows of the small room.

Evelyn turned her head and looked around herself. She had no idea where she was, and she was alone. She slowly pushed herself up, every muscle protesting her movements as she sat up.

It was coming back to her; the mark, the Breach, the pain, and she stared down at her left hand. It still bore the bright green mark, like a jagged slash across her palm, though it was no longer glowing, and no longer throbbing. She had thought it would be gone, and she frowned as she wondered why it remained.

Had it worked? Had she closed the Breach?

A startled cry and a clatter pulled her from her reverie, and she looked up to see an elf standing in the middle of the room, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Evelyn. A tray of healing potions and poultices lay scattered on the floor at the elf’s feet where she had dropped it. Without warning she threw herself to her knees, pressing her forehead and hands to the floor.

“Forgive me, Herald,” the elf cried. “They told me you were still asleep, otherwise I would not have dreamed – I would never have disturbed you! Please, forgive me!”

Evelyn stared at the elf, who seemed terrified to look up at her. She tried to absorb the elf’s words.

_Herald?_

“It’s all right, please – please stand up,” Evelyn pleaded, confused by the elf’s fright. The elf stood hesitantly, and still seemed unable to look at Evelyn for more than a second at a time. She was wringing her hands, casting quick, furtive glances at Evelyn, evidently distressed. “What did you call me?”

The elf gulped. “They called you that – they say you are the Herald of Andraste, sent to us by the Maker and Andraste herself,” the elf addressed the floor, stealing one more glance at Evelyn after she finished answering. “The Seeker asked me to tell her when you woke up. ‘At once,’ she said…”

“Where is Cassandra?”

“At the Chantry,” the elf began backing away. “‘At once,’ she said,” and with that the frightened girl tore from the hut at a run.

Evelyn sat staring after her, thinking for a long moment before she sighed and pushed the sheets back. Nothing made sense. Why did the mark remain? Why was that poor girl so scared to look at her? _Herald?_

The door had luckily swung shut of its own accord, because once Evelyn pushed back the sheets she discovered she was only in her smallclothes. Vaguely she wondered again how she had gotten here, and who had undressed her.

She looked around and saw a fresh robe sitting on a table next to her, and her boots were at the foot of the bed. Quickly she dressed and loosened her braid, combing her fingers through her long hair before she took a moment to stretch her stiff muscles.

The pain she remembered from the mark had disappeared, but she had clearly overexerted herself both physically and mentally. The usual tingle of electric energy was harder to conjure, and felt dimmer than normal.

She needed food, and probably more sleep, before she could get back to her usual self. For the moment she seemed to be safe, though, and would likely not need her magic until both of those necessities were fulfilled.

After stretching her stiffness away, she made her way to the door and out into the world beyond the hut. She found that she was in the same village, the one Cassandra had led her through on the way to the Breach. The village was more populated now, though, and she halted outside her door at the sight that met her as she stepped through the doorway.

The soldiers and villagers were lined along the path, creating a walkway for her, up the sloping hill and stairs that led to where the Chantry sat atop the hill. The soldiers stood at attention, their arms held in salute against their chests. The villagers stood behind them, some clinging to one another, others kneeling in prayer as they watched her slowly make her way to the Chantry.

Whispers followed her progress, a buzzing so insistent she could only make out some of the words. Again and again, she heard the same one repeated.

_Herald. Herald. Herald._

Evelyn made her way up the hill, self-conscious of all of the eyes that followed her progress, and she stared straight ahead at her destination. She was overwhelmed by feelings, but the main one that tugged at her was a slight resentment.

How many of those that now stared at her with worshipful awe had wished for her swift execution when they had believed her responsible for the destruction of the Conclave, the death of the Divine and so many others?

 _Hypocrisy_.

She ruminated on the word bitterly, but tried to banish the feeling. They had given her a chance, they had given her their trust albeit grudgingly, and now it appeared she had proven herself to them. She tried not to be upset about the fortunate turn of events.

The Chantry doors opened when she approached, and she saw Cassandra approaching her briskly. “You’re awake,” the Seeker remarked, sounding almost glad when she reached Evelyn. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Evelyn answered. Absently she clenched and unclenched her left fist, remembering.

“Good. You had us worried,” Cassandra gestured for Evelyn to follow her, and she turned back into the Chantry. The doors closed behind them, soldiers shutting them as the buzzing whispers of the crowd outside grew louder before being suddenly snuffed out by the deafening thud of wood.

“What happened, exactly?” Evelyn asked as they made their way through the main hall of the Chantry. “I remember trying to close the rift, the one beneath the Breach, and I remember pain. But beyond that, I can’t recall anything.”

“You fell unconscious from your efforts. You were brought back here, and healed and allowed to rest. It has been nearly two days,” Cassandra informed her. Evelyn stopped walking, surprised by the passage of time. Cassandra followed her lead and stopped, turning to face her.

“And who -” Evelyn trailed off. She wondered if she even wanted to know. Cassandra gave an understanding smile. Evelyn was sure it was meant to be reassuring, but the quirk of the Seeker’s lips looked more like a smirk, like she wasn’t used to smiling or reassurances.

“Leliana and I made sure you were comfortable, and Solas and the healer Adan tended you,” Cassandra filled in the blanks. “Commander Cullen carried you from the Temple, and he checked on you frequently while you slept. We were all concerned about your well being, the attack on the Breach took a lot out of you.”

“There was an elf, she said…” Evelyn paused, and wasn’t sure why. “She called me the Herald of Andraste.”

“Ah,” Cassandra pursed her lips, thinking. “When you walked out of the Fade, there was a woman behind you. People believe it was Andraste herself. After you stabilized the Breach, they began to think that Andraste sent you to us, in our time of need.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow skeptically and folded her arms against her chest. “And what do you think?”

Cassandra considered her carefully. “Do you still not remember anything that happened at the Conclave, or within the Fade?”

Evelyn slowly shook her head. She remembered hearing the echoes of her own voice in the Temple ruins, interrupting those attacking the Divine, but she had no recollection of speaking those words, or seeing what was happening. “I still only recall running…and a figure of pure light.”

“Andraste,” Cassandra muttered.

“Do you believe that?”

“I’m not sure,” the Seeker replied slowly, and it was more truthful than Evelyn had expected her to answer. “I would like to believe you were chosen, that you were sent to help us. But come, the others await us.”

Cassandra again gestured for Evelyn to follow her, and she opened the door at the end of the hall to reveal a slightly barren room. A table laden with maps and figures sat in the center, papers scattered in the corners of the table.

Leliana and the Commander were already inside, speaking quietly together before the door opened. They looked up and saw Cassandra leading Evelyn inside, and both broke into smiles upon seeing her. The smiles actually seemed genuine to Evelyn, who marveled at that; it was a rare sight as a mage.

“Lady Trevelyan,” Leliana greeted her. “It is good to see you up and about again.”

“Indeed,” the Commander agreed.

Evelyn noticed the reserve he had held against her gaze on the battlefield had lessened, the warmth she had detected in him closer to the surface now. Yet she saw too that he looked tired. He had dark circles around his eyes, hinting at sleepless nights despite his smile.

“This is our Commander, Cullen,” Cassandra made the formal introduction.

“We met briefly on the battlefield, but it’s nice to officially make your acquaintance,” Cullen said with a small bow of his head.

Evelyn returned the gesture, a small smile curving the corners of her mouth, though the action was fleeting. Somehow, right now, she felt smiling was a difficulty. She noticed the Commander’s brows furrow as he observed how quickly her smile came and went, but he said nothing further.

“I couldn’t help but notice the Breach remains,” Evelyn murmured, looking to Cassandra and then Leliana.

“It does, yes,” Cassandra answered her. “Solas said that it is stable, but it will take more power to close it for good.”

“Luckily, we have some ideas about that,” Leliana supplied, but she was stopped from saying anything further by the entrance of Chancellor Roderick.

“Ah!” he cried, stopping in his tracks when he saw Evelyn standing beside the table, her arms folded across her chest as though they could defend her from his accusatory glare. “I heard you were awake. I demand that you send this _apostate_ to Val Royeaux to stand trial for the destruction of the Conclave and the assassination of our Most Holy, Divine Justinia!”

Cassandra gave a nearly inaudible groan. “Not this again.”

“She helped save us,” Leliana protested firmly, folding her arms as she glared at the cleric.

“Even so! She was clearly involved! The people demand justice!” the cleric asserted, sounding more pompous than Evelyn had first noticed him to be.

“The people?” Cullen sounded incredulous. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the people believe her to be -”

“I know what your heretics are calling her, but I tell you, the Chantry will just add that blasphemy to the charges leveled against her!”

“Enough!” Cassandra said, swiping her hand in front of herself with finality. “Chancellor Roderick, the Chantry is in disarray. It will take them ages to choose Justinia’s successor, especially after so many Grand Clerics perished at the Conclave. Meanwhile, there is a hole in the sky, a tear between this world and the Fade, and it threatens all of Thedas. And this woman, whether divinely chosen or not, has the ability to close it.”

“But she is a _mage_!” the cleric spat, his eyes flashing as he looked Evelyn over with disgust.

Evelyn’s back stiffened; she had seen this reaction a few times before, but she felt increasingly vulnerable. She had the potential for allies, but realistically, she was so far utterly alone. If they decided to turn on her, she would be defenseless and unable to stop them. She had never been more exposed or in need of protection. She felt her lips tremble with her nervousness, and she bit her bottom lip to hide it.

“Even so,” Leliana said firmly. “She helped us; she walked out of the Fade and was able to stop the Breach from spreading.”

“We will not hand her over to satisfy your desire to blame someone – an innocent - in order to rise above the station of glorified clerk,” Cullen chimed in, his tone dangerous, folding his arms as well as he straightened. He positively towered over Chancellor Roderick, even with the table between them.

Roderick bristled, but seemed to recognize his defeat. “Well then, what are your plans?” he sneered.

Cassandra reached for a large book on the table, leather bound with a metal symbol adorning its cover. The Chancellor’s eyebrows raised as high as they could as the Seeker threw the book on the table in front of him, a loud thud emphasizing the gesture.

“By the Holy edict of Divine Justinia, I declare the Inquisition of old reborn,” she declared. Leliana nodded beside her, and Cullen shifted and put his hands on the pommel of his sword. They were all staring at Roderick as he spluttered, staring first at the book and then at the three before him.

“The Chantry will hear of this!” he cried rather weakly before he huffed from the room, silence falling in his wake.

A moment passed before Leliana looked at Cassandra. “We’re not ready for this, you know.”

“I know,” Cassandra agreed.

“What’s the Inquisition?” Evelyn asked.

“A chance to restore order,” Leliana answered. “A way to solve the problems of Thedas, free from the bureaucracy and shackles of the Chantry. They will squabble over who will succeed Justinia, for months, years – all the while Thedas will suffer from the chaos of the rifts, the Breach, the war.”

Cassandra nodded as she listened to Leliana. “The Inquisition is our chance to act, to try to put things right.” She looked at Evelyn, her brows furrowed as she observed her. “Will you join us?” she finally asked.

“What?” Evelyn said, taken aback.

“You can walk away if you like,” Leliana informed her. “You are free to go.”

“There are still those convinced of your guilt, however. The Inquisition can offer you protection, but only if you remain,” Cullen said. Evelyn looked at him, contemplating his words. Did he mean them, truly? They would protect her, even though she was a mage?

If she did leave, where would she go?

_Back to the Circle at Ostwick?_

Mentally she rebelled at the notion. She stared at the symbol on the large tome resting on the table as she mulled over her options. She had never known a real life outside of the Circle. What little she remembered from her time before she was taken wasn’t enough to make her long for home or family. She had been a child when she was taken. She hadn’t seen her family since, and her younger brother, Bron, and her mother had died two years before.

Her home was no longer with her family, but it was no longer the Circle either. Evelyn didn’t enjoy the thought of returning to her gilded cage. The First Enchanter had given her a push, encouraged her to leave. It hadn’t turned out at all as she had expected it would, but she could tell she was a different person than she was before the Conclave. And now she actually had a chance, a chance to join something bigger than herself and make a difference.

It was a rare, almost unique position for a mage to find herself in. The Breach affected all of Thedas, and she was maybe the only one who could do anything about it. She had resolved to finish it, to do what she could. She knew now her job wasn’t finished, and she needed to stay until it was. She owed it to herself to take this opportunity.

Her decision reached, she looked up and fixed the three before her with her piercing gaze one at a time. Her eyes fell on Cassandra last. “Yes, I’ll stay. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

 

* * *

 

As the weeks passed, Evelyn familiarized herself with the small village of Haven, wandering and observing its residents, attempting to get to know those she stood beside, those she had rescued. Many residents seemed too in awe of her to try to approach her, but some who had joined up with the Inquisition seemed eager to be in her presence and occasionally greeted her and spoke with her.

The intense reverence of those around her was unnerving, but she had never had a chance to move or speak as freely as she did now. She was determined not to squander her freedom to meet new people, experience new things.

If she avoided the area where the Templars who had joined their cause camped, she felt free of the suffocating  _watching_  she had always endured at the Circle. The simple curiosity of the villagers and Inquisition forces didn’t come close to matching the oppressive feeling of the Circle, the way she hadn’t ever felt truly alone or like anything she did was private.

When the staring did begin to wear on her, though, she retreated to the Chantry or the single room accommodations that she had been granted, the same she had awoken in following their assault on the Breach.

It was her nature to sit back and observe; she remembered when she was a girl Bron had always been the one to rush ahead, speaking with strangers and running headfirst and carefree into any new experience or adventure that presented itself. She tried now to draw on the strength and eagerness she remembered Bron having, but she still struggled to do more than watch. She still considered herself vulnerable and without allies; they had promised her protection, but she was naturally wary considering everything that had happened.

She had always been incredibly guarded and spent her time watching others; assessing their reactions, their mannerisms, and trying to discern their true nature. It was a skill she had expertly honed in the Circle, where relationships were stilted and precarious, and the Templars had always just watched, forever distrustful, cold and unapproachable. The only person she had truly relaxed around was the First Enchanter, a kind older woman who had seen something within Evelyn and taken her under her wing to nurture the potential she saw.

Now though, Evelyn moved through the village with a childlike wonder at the freedom she felt, where even the mundane of everyday life felt new and exciting to her. She helped Adan find his old master’s notes, abandoned as he tried to flee the demons in the chaos, which she felt was the least she could do to show gratitude for his healing her twice. She spent time studying his notes, learning the simple poultices he made out of whatever resources he had available, and she asked him to show her a bit of healing magic.

She had tried to learn at the Circle, but the study of her natural lightning abilities had come to her easier, and had served as a more fascinating salve against the suffocating tedium of Circle living. Now that she had actually had to fight for her very life, the appeal of healing magic was renewed within her. She became an avid student, and soon spent a portion of her days helping tend the wounded and sick who remained in Haven.

She spoke with Solas, asking more about the Fade, the rifts, and the Breach. He seemed pleased by her curiosity, and eager to share what he knew. He regaled her with tales of dreams he had had in the Fade, his careful and measured demeanor gradually giving way to an easy camaraderie. She was fascinated by his life as an apostate, and frequently marveled at how free his life had been, away from Templars and Towers.

He became eager to answer any question she had, and debate the nature of the Fade, magic, and spirits with her any time she had a few minutes to spare. He reminded her of one of the Senior Enchanters in Ostwick, who had a patient nature and valued students who wanted to learn as much as they could. The man had been one of Evelyn’s favorite instructors, but he had left with the Rebellion.

Vaguely she wondered where he was now, or whether he had been at the Conclave.

Evelyn’s evenings were spent speaking with Varric beside the fire, listening to stories as he wove them, jokes that he told, frequently at the expense of their companions. She found herself able to smile easily in his presence.

At first he called her Herald, and she noticed an uncharacteristic veneration in his tone when he said it. As time went on, however, he began to call her Sparkles when they were alone, explaining the way her barriers looked like the sparkling of stars when she cast them. Eventually he told her what had happened in Kirkwall, about the Champion, Hawke, and Meredith’s ultimate defeat after the Chantry was destroyed, when she was driven mad by red lyrium.

He mentioned knowing Cullen when he was stationed in Kirkwall, and Evelyn was surprised to learn the Commander was a former Templar. Then again she hadn’t really spoken to him beyond their initial two meetings and hadn’t asked him anything about himself. Occasionally as she walked through the village she caught him watching her, but his gaze lacked the same unsettling coldness she felt when she was watched by Templars in the Circle.

It was intriguing to her, because she couldn’t understand it; it was a puzzle to solve.

Haven continued to grow, more people joining the Inquisition every day as news of it spread. Sometimes Evelyn sat at the gate, watching as newcomers made their way into the village, ready to take up the cause. Evelyn had studied the geography and history of Thedas, and some days she spent trying to guess where people hailed from based on the few clues she could observe about them.

Varric frequently joined her at her guessing game when he had nothing else to occupy his time. He had a knack for it, and often created elaborate and outlandish back stories to accompany his guesses. The habits of a writer, she assumed.

Beyond the stream of newcomers, the Inquisition’s forces trained, sparring with each other for hours a day. She noticed the Commander spent most of his days overseeing the training exercises, frequently yelling corrections at his charges, sometimes grabbing a sword or a shield to show proper form to a struggling recruit.

When she grew weary of watching newcomers, she watched the former stable hands and farmers learn sword play and how to block with shields. Some of Leliana’s scouts taught others archery, and the sound of swords clashing and arrows thumping into wooden targets filled the air as the steady flow of refugees and newcomers filed into the walls of Haven beside her.

Cassandra frequently trained with the wooden dummies found near the training recruits, and Evelyn sometimes watched her unleash her fury and frustration against the defenseless wood. Some days Evelyn sought the Seeker out for conversation, and the older woman’s initial distrust seemed to be slowly fading away, as though being gradually chipped away with a pickaxe. Cassandra was Nevarran royalty, but loyal and devoted to the Maker and her cause as Divine Justinia’s former Right Hand, and her new role in the Inquisition.

Though Cassandra still remained doubtful and distrustful toward her, Evelyn found her own hesitancy and distrust of the Chantry Seeker disappearing more rapidly as she got to know the other woman over the course of their talks. Beneath her tough, commanding exterior, Evelyn detected a vulnerability, a self-doubt that made the Seeker seem more human than she first appeared.

Evelyn was reminded of the way Cassandra had stiffened when Roderick had insinuated she would bear the brunt of her decision at the forward camp before they assaulted the Breach. However callous she came across at first, Evelyn could tell now that Cassandra was just incredibly passionate, though often brash and headstrong. The young mage found the combination oddly endearing.

So it was that when the Inquisition was first formed, the Herald of Andraste spent most of her time observing, standing on the periphery and studying everything she could. She assessed her new, freer reality with a keen eye, intent to learn all she could as the news of their cause spread and their forces gathered.


	4. Training

There she was again, those bright eyes fixed in the direction of the recruits, watching.

Cullen had noticed the Herald had taken to sitting to the side of the stairs, her legs pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes fixed intently on the training taking place in the snowy expanse before the village walls. Some days Varric joined her, and they watched the slow procession of pilgrims streaming into the gates together. Varric spoke rapidly to her, laughing, and the Herald smiled faintly as she listened to him, responding occasionally, her clear eyes flitting over people in the crowds that passed.

But on the days that Varric didn’t join her she sat watching the new recruits as they trained, her white face still as marble while her eyes flickered rapidly over the sparring. When Cullen first saw her observing so closely, he had felt unnerved, but as it became a common occurrence he began to feel a deep curiosity take root in place of his anxiety.

They had not spoken except in passing since she had agreed to join the Inquisition. He wondered sometimes if it was not what she expected, and that she came here to watch the sparring because she was restless. He also wondered if she had only agreed to join the Inquisition because they had offered her protection.

He had voiced this concern to Cassandra one evening when they were alone, and Cassandra had responded bluntly that if they hadn’t wanted to use that to entice her to them, they shouldn’t have offered it to her. He had to concede her point.

Besides training recruits and trying to find room and supplies for all of the newcomers to Haven, the Inquisition had yet to accomplish anything substantial. Leliana’s scouts were busy gathering what information they could, and his veteran soldiers and Templars were doing what they could to secure the area. But so far they knew little about their adversaries, unable to find any new information about the Breach or who or what may have been responsible.

His already precarious relationship with sleep was becoming even more so as the stress and responsibility began to wear on him. He had taken to rubbing his temples so much that even Varric had begun to ask him if he was all right in passing. Nearly every time he tried to write reports, his hands shook until he had to set aside his quill, once or twice having to rely on his second to take a dictation on a critical report that couldn’t wait for the shaking to stop.

Cassandra frequently gave him sidelong glances when they stood around the war table, or when she stood beside him to watch the recruits train, taking a break from her own relentless practice. She had yet to voice any concerns, however, and he trusted her to speak if she doubted his ability to lead…

There it was again.

He had been pacing through the recruits, correcting form here and there as he did so, lost in his thoughts when he felt the penetrating gaze on the back of his neck, the prickling sensation of being watched. He turned from the recruits he stood near and saw her, still sitting in the same spot, her eyes fixed on him instead of the recruits.

The sun was beginning to set, and he realized they had been at it for hours. He swept the training recruits with a critical eye. Perhaps it was time to call it a day.

“All right, men,” he called out over the clanking of steel. Slowly the flurry of movement around him came to a halt. “Excellent effort today. We’ll pick it up tomorrow, midday, focusing on shields. Dismissed.”

A chorus of “yes, ser!” greeted this pronouncement, and he watched as they began to file by him, moving slowly in their exhaustion. He turned and made his own way toward the stairs, still feeling the weight of eyes upon him.

She didn’t get up, but sat watching him from her place on the stone ledge that lined the short staircase to the front gate. He approached slowly, one hand resting on his sword’s pommel at his side, propping his tingling, aching extremities more comfortably as he stopped before her.

“Are you interested in learning?” he asked, his eyes meeting her ever watchful gaze.

“Learning – to wield a sword?” she asked, her tone surprised. “I’m not sure I’d be any good…”

“Nonsense,” he gave a quirking smile. “None of these recruits knew anything about swords or shields before they came here, and they’re making excellent progress. All it takes is plenty of practice.”

"That part is obvious,” she mused, the faintest smile tweaking the corners of her full lips, happening so quickly he almost felt that he imagined it.

“It could be useful,” he pointed out. “If you ever found yourself without your staff, but had a sword handy…” He shrugged as he suggested the scenario for her consideration.

“Mages don’t need a staff to perform magic,” she countered. “They just help us focus more quickly, help us channel our magic into faster attacks.”

“I know,” he gave a thoughtful, hesitant nod. He tried to banish the memory his mind conjured, and the agitation in the hand upon his pommel increased. He pushed the feeling down, focusing instead on the earnest look she was giving him. “It was just a suggestion. You’ve been watching the sparring so frequently I wondered if maybe you wanted to give it a try.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her bright eyes seeming to bore into him as she considered his words. “I enjoy watching the progress of your forces,” she answered finally. “It’s an interesting process; I’ve never had a chance to see anything like it. These recruits were farmers, stable hands – but they longed to be a part of something greater than themselves. Now they are.”

His brow furrowed as he listened to her. “You sound as if you understand them, Herald,” he said.

“The Circle never would have afforded me opportunities to be a part of something like this,” she agreed. “But surely you understand that confinement to some degree, Commander. After all, you’re a Templar, are you not?”

“Former Templar,” he corrected. “I left the Order when Cassandra asked me to command the Inquisition’s forces.”

She gave an understanding nod. “When you were in Kirkwall?” She prompted.

“I – yes, I was in Kirkwall,” he was slightly taken aback that she knew that. _Varric_ , he realized.

“Did you serve under Knight-Commander Meredith?” she questioned.

His hand gave another twitch where it rested on his pommel. “I was her Knight-Captain for several years,” he answered, his voice low. “I took the title of Knight-Commander after – when she, er, died. I didn’t hold the title long, though, only about a year before Cassandra asked me to join the Inquisition.”

The Herald nodded and finally unwrapped her arms from her knees, gently pushing herself into a standing position. Even on the raised ledge before him, she was much shorter than he was, still standing nearly a head shorter.

She was certainly petite for a woman, but he was also unusually tall and normally towered over those around him. He watched as she gingerly brushed her robes with her fingers, dusting pebbles and dirt from the dark brown cloth.

She raised her gaze to his once more and gave a tiny smile. He took it to mean her inquiries were friendly. If he was completely honest with himself, he had avoided discussing that he was a Templar with her because he wasn’t sure what she would make of it.

He reminded himself that Leliana had said the Herald had remained at Ostwick when the Circle had rebelled and voted for independence, though she could have left to join the rebel mages. Maybe she didn’t hate Templars like so many other mages.

“How long were you at the Circle in Ostwick?” he asked, trying to sound casual. It was often a touchy subject for mages, and he hoped it wouldn’t end their conversation. He wanted to know her better.

“Thirteen years,” she replied. He noticed that she didn’t have the same haunted look others did when they spoke of going to the Circle. “My magic showed rather early, when I was barely seven. The Templars came a few days later, and I was there until, well, the Conclave.”

It took him only a half-second to do the math in his head; she was only twenty. He stared at her, one of the pieces of the puzzle that was the Herald of Andraste falling into place. Thirteen years, from the age of seven, and only twenty now…

So much had happened in the span of a few weeks, her whole life changing around her unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It must have been the first real experience she had had outside of the Circle, and what an experience it had been.

 _Maker’s breath_ , he mused to himself, trying to imagine what she must be thinking.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep the shock from his face. “You come from a noble family, correct? I’ve heard that other Circles tended to be more lenient with their noble charges – did you ever go home at all? Or travel anywhere else to study, perhaps?”

She raised an eyebrow as she regarded him. “Other Circles? So it wasn’t so at Kirkwall, I presume?”

“Kirkwall was – worse than most, I’ll admit,” he responded. He noticed that she had avoided answering him, countering instead with an observation of his questioning, keeping the focus of their conversation on him. _Clever_.

“Did you know the Champion, Hawke?” she asked suddenly, and he noticed an eager gleam in her eye.

“I did, yes,” he answered hesitantly. “Not very well, but we were acquainted with each other. She helped me with several small matters over the years when we were both there.”

“When you were both there?”

“We both came from Ferelden, after the Blight. She arrived before me, but I came to Kirkwall perhaps a year after she did. She also departed a year before I did.”

“You’re Ferelden?”

“Yes, I am,” he nodded, his grip tightening on his pommel.

“You were here during the Blight?”

“I was – stationed at the Circle Tower on Lake Calenhad,” he murmured. His grip tightened further, the aching increasing as he fought the twitching. He almost missed her next question as he was so focused on keeping his hands from shaking.

“Is it strange to be back?”

“In a way,” he mused, nodding. She was watching him closely as he answered, but her gaze never left his face and he hoped that meant she didn’t notice the vice-like grip he had on his sword. “I’m not from this part of Ferelden, but still…it feels odd to be back after so long away.”

“Why did you join the Inquisition?” she asked, studying him more intently, as though his answer would be in his eyes rather than in his words. Her gaze made him consider things carefully before he replied.

“What happened in Kirkwall…it changed my feelings on the Order. I spent my year as Knight-Commander trying to return some semblance of peace to the city, trying to rebuild and help the people. Cassandra was offering me a chance to do that for all of Thedas. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“And so you left the Templars?” she was still watching him, her eyes unmoving as she waited for his answers.

“Yes. The Order was no longer something I could be a part of.”

“You stood with Hawke against Meredith in the end.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, and he noticed a significance in the way she pronounced it. Her tone was firm, and yet somehow in the way she phrased it, he inferred a touch of forgiveness. But she wasn’t someone he needed forgiveness from, and he wondered why he felt the need to interpret that in her voice.

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice so low he wondered if she could hear him.

Again the corners of her mouth tugged upwards briefly as she stared at him.

“I’m happy we have you here, then, Commander,” she said after several moments spent in silence. She gave a nod of her head and turned away from him, finally making her way through the gates into the walls of the village.

He stood staring after her, wondering at all if his curiosity about her would ever fully be satisfied.


	5. A New Job

“Herald,” a voice called out to her, and she turned around to see Cassandra approaching her from the direction of the Chantry. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all,” Evelyn replied, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. “Is there a problem?”

“No, but we were wondering if you would join us in the war room,” the Seeker gestured with her hand for Evelyn to follow, and they fell into step as they made their way through the Chantry.

Leliana and the Commander stood on the other side of the table, beside a woman in an extravagant bunch of yellow silk whom Evelyn had only seen at a distance the last few weeks. She was holding a plank of wood with parchment and quill at the ready as she listened to the other two talking. Her eyes were eager, and she gave Evelyn an incredibly thorough once over before nodding to herself as though in response to a question she didn’t voice aloud.

Despite this invasive, albeit silent, assessment, Evelyn felt herself taken in by the smile that constantly played at the corners of the woman’s full mouth. Evelyn’s own quick assessment identified another potential ally, even before introductions were made.

“Herald,” Leliana greeted Evelyn with a nod, and Cullen turned away from his conversation with the spymaster to give a sideways smile in greeting when he saw the Herald enter.

Since their conversation at the gate a few days ago, the Commander had begun to go out of his way to greet her and engage her in conversation. She briefly quirked the corners of her mouth to return his smile. For some reason, she still found herself guarded and reserved around the Inquisition’s inner circle. Instinctively she still feared that they could turn her out into the street whenever it suited them to do so. She was waiting to discover if she could truly trust them, and resolved to keep her distance until she could be assured that wouldn’t happen.

“Herald, I would like to introduce you to Josephine Montiliyet,” Cassandra gestured at the woman who stood beside Cullen. “She is the Inquisition’s Ambassador.”

“An honor, to be sure, Herald,” Josephine chimed in, inclining her head in Evelyn’s direction. She had a thick accent, and Evelyn frowned to hear it; she couldn’t place where the woman was from.

“A pleasure, Ambassador,” Evelyn murmured. She looked away from the other woman’s calculating gaze and looked at the map spread along the table.

More figurines adorned it than the last time she had been in the war room, and several more markers were spread about Ferelden, placed on important and noteworthy locations. Evelyn looked away from the map to Cassandra, waiting for the Seeker to tell her why she was attending a war room meeting after weeks of no invitations to do so.

Across the table she could tell the Commander was watching her, and she maintained her focus on Cassandra as she waited. His gaze still didn’t hold the same cold, invasive quality other Templars’ did, but occasionally its intensity made it hard for her to focus. She avoided him now, hoping to continue to make a good impression upon them, still so worried that they would decide she was useless and let her go that she tried to keep her guard up.

To her surprise it was Josephine who spoke first. “We have heard from someone who has requested to meet with you, Herald.”

Evelyn shifted her gaze to the Ambassador. “Who would want to meet with me?”

“Revered Mother Gisele,” Josephine supplied. “She is in the Hinterlands, tending to refugees of the Mage-Templar War. She has requested to meet with you, Herald, to lend her voice and support to your cause.”

“We believe it is important for you to meet with her in person,” Leliana added. “My scouts have located her south of Redcliffe, but the fighting in the area is intense and they have been unable to reach her. We will send support; Inquisition forces will help you secure the area and speak with Mother Gisele to see what aid she is offering.”

Evelyn folded her arms, thinking. “Is she still with the Chantry? Why would she want to help me? The Chantry has declared me a heretic.”

“Mother Gisele is known to be a reasonable woman, and holds influence among her fellow Revered Mothers,” Josephine answered. “She has requested to meet with you to judge for herself, and if she adds her voice to our cause, it may in turn help others within the Chantry to see reason as well.”

Evelyn stared at Josephine, and unlike many others, Josephine did not shy away from her piercing gaze; instead she returned its intensity. Evelyn could understand what an asset Josephine would be to the Inquisition in the role of Ambassador.

“When would you like me to leave?” Evelyn asked, turning to Cassandra.

“We will leave in the morning, if you will be ready to depart by then,” the Seeker responded, catching Evelyn’s eye. The younger woman gave a curt nod.

“Yes, I’ll be ready to leave,” she replied.

“We will take Varric and Solas with us, as well. The fighting is escalating in the Hinterlands, and we need all of the help we can get.”

“Very well,” Evelyn murmured. The Commander was still watching her. “Is that all?”

“Yes, Herald,” Leliana answered her. “Get some rest before your journey.”

Evelyn nodded and turned to depart, slowly walking through the Chantry as she made her way to her quarters. Even though it was a small one room hut, it was larger than the quarters she had had at the Circle in Ostwick, and she had begun to put small touches around the room to make it feel like it belonged to her.

She had started to collect objects, feeling a desire to own things, but so far her meager collections were mostly academic in nature. She had a copy of Adan’s notes on poultices and healing magic, which were scattered across the desk where she had been looking over them the night before. Nailed above the desk was a sketch she had done of the Frostback Mountains surrounding Haven, the Breach spreading above the highest peak. Oddly, in charcoal and motionless, the Breach looked beautiful, almost breathtakingly so, instead of terrifying as it did in person.

She picked up a small satchel that rested beside the desk and began to pack what she would need for the journey. She didn’t have many possessions, and certainly not many that needed to go with her. When she had double checked that she had everything she would need, she sat the satchel beside where her staff rested against the wall.

The Inquisition’s crafters had made her a new staff, replacing the one she had picked up from the bridge’s debris when Cassandra had led her to the Breach all those weeks ago. This one was lighter, thinner, and easier for her to hold and twirl in her hands. She had taken it out beyond the gates and practiced with it, using a large boulder as her target. She had gone a fair distance from the walls of Haven and the sparring recruits so that she didn’t upset anyone with her magic. She ran her fingers down her staff, remembering how she had looked up to see the Commander watching from the hill above her, his hand on the pommel of his sword as he observed her…

Evelyn shook her head, still puzzling over the conversation she had had with the Commander a few days before, of the look he had given her when she had pointed out that he had sided with Hawke against Meredith in the end. She had realized that he had essentially left the Order and what it stood for that day, even if he did not make it official for another year after that.

She wasn’t sure he had understood her meaning. Something vulnerable and haunted had shown behind his eyes, but he had looked at her so warmly, as though asking for her understanding.

Since then, he had stepped away from his recruits to stand beside her more frequently when she came to observe the sparring, making light conversation and drawing her attention to interesting tactics on display. Occasionally he even relayed what he knew of individual recruits, since he knew she was interested in the way their forces were composed almost entirely of average citizens, longing to be a part of something greater. His eyes were becoming warmer each time they spoke, less guarded, and the scar at the corner of his mouth was almost always quirked into a small smile when he looked at her.

She turned away from her packed satchel and staff finally and left her hut, intending to seek out Varric. Evelyn found him in his usual place beside the fire which was flanked with the haphazardly placed tents that now littered the middle of Haven, cramping the already small village. When he spotted her, Varric put his quill back into the ink pot beside him and set aside the parchment he wrote upon.

"Well, Sparkles, looks like we’ve actually got a job, now,” he greeted her, patting the spot next to him as he spoke. She took her place beside him, pulling her legs into her chest and hugging them to her as she returned his easy smile.

“It looks like,” she agreed.

“How do you feel? Is it everything you were hoping for when you joined The Mighty Inquisition?” He was teasing her, but she stared at the fire thoughtfully.

“I’m nervous,” she confessed.

“Sparkles, I’d be more worried about you if you _weren’t_ nervous,” Varric gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Weeks of sitting around, and now they’re sending you out for a meet and greet in the middle of some of the worst fighting between the mages and Templars?” he trailed off and stared at the fire, shaking his head slightly.

“What do you think about reaching out to the Chantry like this?” she asked. “Do you think this Mother Gisele will actually help?”

“I know little about the woman, except what Cassandra mentioned when she told me to pack my things,” Varric sighed. “But Leliana and Josephine are confident this is the right move, and we should trust their judgment.”

Evelyn nodded, returning her gaze to the fire. For a long time they sat in silence, and Varric took his quill and parchment back up to finish what he was working on.

“This will be only the third time I’ve ever traveled anywhere,” Evelyn said suddenly, looking at her companion to see his reaction.

He chuckled. “Only your third? Are we not counting physical trips into the Fade, now?”

Evelyn smiled despite herself. “All right, fourth if we’re counting that.”

“Poor Sparkles, they never let you take a vacation while you were at the Circle, and Ostwick is right near the sea. What a damn shame.” He was teasing, but he looked at her sadly.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn found that sleep eluded her that night, her stomach clenching in knots of anxiety and apprehension, her mind racing over the unknown that faced her the next day.

Varric had teased her about a lack of vacations, but save for her first trip to the Circle and her journey to the Conclave, she had never been anywhere else. Bron had been a sickly child, and her parents hadn’t ever risked traveling, so fearful that something would happen to him if they did.

Her anxiety-riddled mind plagued her with the memory of the devastated look on her mother’s face as the Templars escorted her away. Her eldest child a mage, unable to remain home, her youngest child sickly, unlikely to reach adulthood, and Evelyn once overheard the healers tell her mother she was unable to bear any more children…

Though the Circle at Ostwick had been lenient and would have allowed her to journey home, she had never taken the opportunity to do so. Evelyn had decided she would spare her family the pain of visits, which would have felt tainted by the knowledge that her return home was only temporary, every moment just a step closer to her leaving again. It was better if they continued on as if she were no longer a part of their lives at all.

Over thirteen years she had received few letters from them. Bron had tried to write at first, until his sickness prevented it, her mother had only written once two years before, and her father wrote only twice. The first to tell her of Bron’s passing two years ago, the second to tell her of her mother’s suicide several months later, after she had received her mother’s only letter. She had been unable to answer her father’s letters, unsure of what to say.

She felt regret when she thought of it, and rolled over onto her back with a sigh as she tried not to think about it all. But her nervousness for her trip to the Hinterlands kept her ruminating on the past.

Evelyn finally fell into a restless sleep, fitfully tossing and turning, waking at every creaking limb and rustling leaf outside her windows. When she woke and noticed the soft light of dawn outside her window, she gave a resigned sigh and heaved herself out of bed, giving up on any hope of feeling rested.

She wove her hair into a long braid as she always did before she carefully put on her new armor, her fingers fumbling over the many unfamiliar buckles as she fastened them. The Inquisition’s smith had made the armor especially for her, concerned as he was that she ran around in only a cloth robe with a small leather waist corset, which he noticed offered little to no real defense of her delicate midsection. He told her he had watched as she was brought back unconscious after her assault on the Breach, and had decided then that she needed better protection. She marveled at his skill; the leather he had used was supple but sturdy, moving easily with her but was still thick enough to offer considerable protection.

The long leather coat that she wore over it moved just as easily, flowing as though it were silk, spinning easily when she twirled. The leather breaches were the same as the bodice, and contained thin, flexible plates of metal to cover and protect her knees. He had made her new boots from the same leather, and she eased them on, tightening the many laces that spanned the length of her shin before she picked up the long traveling cloak he had made for her. It was wool, deep forest green, lined with a layer of soft fur for further insulation from the cold.

She fastened the cloak against her throat and picked up her satchel and staff before she exited her quarters. She saw Solas gathering his own possessions from his lone tent in the distance, and saw Varric and Cassandra already waiting by the gate. Evelyn began to descend the steps when she heard a voice call out from behind her and turned.

The Commander was approaching, already in his armor and mantle, ready for the day ahead. He was carrying something and hurried down the sloping path to where Evelyn waited for him.

“Herald, I have something for you,” he held out his hand, and she saw now that he was holding a small, curved dagger, sheathed in worn and delicately embossed leather.

“A dagger?” she asked, taking it from him and holding it between her hands to pull it gently from its sheath to examine it. Furrowing her brows, she looked up at him, confused.

“Yes, I’d like for you to take it with you,” he gave a small smile, and she noticed he almost seemed sheepish as he stood before her, absently rubbing at the back of his neck as he watched her. “I know you said you don’t need a staff, or anything else, but please – I’d appreciate it if you kept it with you. Just in case you need it.”

She returned the dagger to its sheath and smiled at him. His raised his eyebrows slightly in response, and she realized it was the first time she had given him an unguarded smile.

“Thank you, Commander,” she nodded at him, a gesture he mirrored, and she turned to join the others at the gate, fastening the small dagger’s scabbard to her belt as she walked.


	6. Reports and Concerns

They had only expected for her to be gone for a few days, but Cassandra’s first report informed them that their trip to the Hinterlands was to be extended.

The Inquisition’s forces had secured the Crossroads, and the Herald had been able to meet with Mother Gisele. The Revered Mother had encouraged her to travel to Val Royeaux, to face the Grand Clerics in person, but first implored her to assist the refugees of the war as best she could. Cassandra noted the wisdom of Mother Gisele’s counsel, as well as the Herald’s willingness to heed it. The Hinterlands were in complete disarray, and the Herald and Cassandra agreed that assisting the refugees was not only the right thing to do, but was also beneficial for the Inquisition. Cassandra made particular note of the Herald’s increasing dedication to restoring order in the area, as well as the surprising and gradual emergence of a quiet, resolute leadership she had not expected from the younger woman.

A few more days passed before the Herald sent her own report to the Commander.

She had helped find food and blankets for the refugees, and had contacted the Master of Horses from Redcliffe, though he refused to help outfit the Inquisition with horses until the area was more secure. She asked Cullen to send some forces to the area to help build watchtowers; she had marked the places with cairns and also enclosed a small sketched map with their locations marked for him. She informed him of the presence of many rifts in the area, but also that she had been closing every one that she came across as they moved through the area. As Cassandra had, she noted that there was fierce fighting between the mages and Templars, and that many innocents were getting caught up in-between the two sides. He noticed a shaky quality to the handwriting of these lines, and he wondered at the Herald’s ability to write it so factually though the lines shook as though she was distressed by what was happening. She ended the report with a postscript thanking him again for the dagger. She had yet to have to use it to defend herself, but it was making the task of collecting much needed healing herbs easier. He smiled and reread her report once more, and he paused to appreciate the way she signed it simply ‘Evelyn’ rather than Herald or Lady Trevelyan, before he took his plans for the watchtowers to Leliana and Josephine.

He spent the next week training more recruits, including new ones that had come to join the Inquisition from the Hinterlands. The presence of the Inquisition as a stabilizing force in the area had encouraged many able-bodied people to make the journey to Haven to lend their support. He overheard some of these newcomers speaking of the mage with the glowing fist who had saved their children, their families, had thrown a shimmering barrier up to protect them just in time from the swing of a sword, giving them a chance to escape certain death. The reverence and gratitude he heard spreading throughout the village filled him with pride. Sending the Herald had been the right move. Her decision to stay had been an even better one.

He received a private report from Cassandra a week later, who again asserted that while a strength and leadership was emerging in the Herald, she also seemed to be struggling with the violence they had encountered from the first moment they had arrived in the area. The Seeker remarked that the Herald appeared to have difficulty when their opponents were people rather than demons or beasts. She told him that the Herald often hesitated to do more than protect her allies with barriers or healing magic, until she was finally forced to use her lightning in self-defense when attacked directly.

While Cassandra admitted it was understandable that the younger woman was inexperienced with combat, she worried that her caution would make things more difficult in the end. She confessed she had caught the Herald up in the middle of the night, crying silently in front of the fire after a particularly bad battle. They had been surrounded, almost overwhelmed, and in desperation the Herald had created a powerful maelstrom, surrounding and containing the rebel mages as if in an electrical cage, lightning striking them continuously as they all screamed in agony as they died. She had saved her party’s life, all of them walking away from the battle with injuries that were easily healed with poultices and rest. But Evelyn had walked from the field to their camp, wide-eyed and staring straight ahead as if she could still hear the screams. They had only a few more urgent tasks to accomplish, but Cassandra admitted she was trying to encourage the Herald to return to Haven sooner rather than later. The Seeker was worried about her.

Cullen finished reading the report and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Getting used to battle wasn’t easy, and honestly it never truly became a painless experience. He knew, too, that the fact that their opponents were mages and Templars couldn’t have made things easier on the Herald at all. No doubt she found herself wondering if she knew them, or recognized herself in them. She could even have been among them, if things had gone differently. Cassandra was right to be worried, and Cullen found himself grateful that she had confided her concerns to him. He stood and stretched, mulling over Cassandra’s report and wondering if there was any way he may be able to help.


	7. Hesitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Brief attempted assualt and aftermath

 

            The sight of Haven ahead of them was soothing, and Evelyn heaved a grateful sigh from where she sat astride the horse given to her by Master Dennitt. Behind her she heard Varric give a low whistle. “You know, I never thought I’d ever be this happy to see this place,” he muttered, making the other three chuckle softly.

            “Open the gates, the Herald approaches!” a soldier yelled from the ramparts, and the doors of Haven began to swing open, the heavy wood groaning as it parted to admit them. Evelyn and the others dismounted before the steps, and a few young men ran forward to take their horses and lead them to the stables. Evelyn patted the neck of her white steed one last time before she began to climb the stairs to enter the village.

            She glanced around, noticing how much more crowded the village had become in her absence. The meager light of the dusky sky cast the many tents scattered about in shadow, but the residents of Haven had lit fires all around the camps, their yellow light flickering and dancing on the canvas surroundings.

            “You’re back!” a deep voice called from her left, and she turned to see the Commander coming toward them down the hill, Leliana and Josephine trailing in his wake. The distance suggested he had rushed ahead of them. “We didn’t expect you for several days.”

            “Cassandra insisted we come back early,” Evelyn told him. The Commander looked to the Seeker, and Evelyn saw the other woman give him a meaningful look, which made him give a grateful nod and smile in response.

            “Excellent,” he replied, returning his gaze to hers. “Well, I’m sure you’d like to rest and get some food, you’ve had a long journey. We can discuss your accomplishments and our plans tomorrow.”

            “You don’t need to tell me twice,” Varric said from behind her, and she saw him stagger off to the tavern. She considered joining him, but found that she longed for a bath first. She raised her gaze back to the Commander’s and gave him a curt nod, excusing herself as Leliana and Josephine greeted Cassandra. Solas also wandered away to his tent, which was no longer as isolated as it had been before they had left. They seemed to have gathered a great many followers in the last few weeks.

            Once in her quarters she dropped her bag on the ground and leaned her staff against the wall, pulling her cloak and leather coat from her shoulders and throwing them over her desk’s chair. She didn’t want to think, she didn’t want to remember. Right now all she wanted was a hot bath, and as if someone had read her mind, the elf who frequently checked on her came in carrying a metal tub, followed by people who were carrying buckets of water, steam rising as they emptied them into the tub until it was filled.

            “Thank you,” Evelyn stuttered, surprised at the efficiency with which she had gotten her unspoken wish. The elf gave her a brief smile and curtsy and they all departed, closing the door behind them. It had to have been Josephine’s doing, Evelyn mused. It seemed like the sort of thing the Ambassador would think to do.

            She walked over to the door and bolted it before she stripped off the rest of her armor and the blouse she wore beneath it, throwing the items haphazardly on the floor, her dirty boots falling with loud thuds when she dropped them. Evelyn didn’t hesitate and sank into the tub as quickly as she could, the water sloshing against the sides as she got in. She released a deep sigh, feeling the heat as it scalded her skin and soothed her aching muscles. For a long time she relaxed, her head resting against the back of the metal tub, her eyes closed, her mind blank.

            When the water began to cool, she placed her hand on its surface and concentrated, her magic coursing through her and reheating the water until it was once again scalding. She wasn’t very adept at fire magic, but she had taught herself small tricks like this while at the Circle, considering them common sense necessities. She could manage reheating water or lighting fires, and occasionally holding a small flame in her hands for personal warmth, but that was the extent. Right now, that little bit of know how was the perfect amount, she decided with a contented sigh.

            Eventually she undid her braid and sank beneath the water, wetting her hair before she reached for the soap that had been left on a towel beside the tub. She started at her scalp, massaging intently with her fingers before she gently pulled the suds through the length of her hair, trying to get every bit of the Hinterlands out of the strands. While they had been gone they had bathed in streams, focusing on simply removing dirt and grime, and to try to keep any wounds from festering. But she had longed to feel clean, to feel like herself again, to wash away the memories of the fighting. She spent a long time scrubbing herself with the soap, until her skin was pink and tender from her vigorous scrubbing. When the water finally began to cool again, she stood and rinsed herself with the spare bucket of water that had been left for her before she stepped from the tub. She dried herself with the cloth towel that had been left for her before rubbing her hair with it to get out the excess water. With a happy sigh she found one of her linen blouses and simple wool skirts and pulled them on, slipping her feet into her leather slippers and grabbing her cloak.

            She headed toward her door but suddenly had a thought and stooped to where her armor lay on the floor, removing the dagger and scabbard from her belt. The Commander had given it to her for the Hinterlands, but the leather of the scabbard almost seemed worn as though it had been his, and she thought maybe she should return it to him in case it held sentimental value. She planned ask the smith to make one for her, since having a dagger had been a great help with gathering herbs in the Hinterlands. If she ran into the Commander she’d give it back to him, and so she tied it to the sash on her skirt.

            Evelyn left her hut, feeling restless. She determined to dry her hair beside a fire or find Varric within the tavern, but she became distracted by the sight of the Breach looming above her. The joyful sounds coming from the encampment and tavern made her recoil, clashing with her melancholy mood. She instead wandered away from them, following along the walls of Haven in the darkness. The wind chilled her as it blew through her damp hair, but she pulled her cloak closer about her shoulders and continued her meandering pace, dragging her fingertips along the rough stone beside her. Evelyn was approaching the Chantry, and she considered seeking Mother Gisele within its walls, but instead she continued past the doors and clung once more to the shadows of the walls. She decided to try to find the Commander’s tent so that she could return his dagger before turning in for the evening, suddenly feeling exhausted. She was deep in thought, memories of the last few weeks running through her mind, and she was lost to her surroundings. She missed the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

            An arm snatched out at her, grabbing her roughly around the waist and pulling her back against a hard figure. Evelyn shrieked in surprise and another hand clamped over her mouth. The overpowering smell of ale filled her nostrils, and she struggled against the person holding her. They spun her roughly and pushed her against the stone wall beside them, holding tight to her thrashing form. One arm pushed across her shoulders, pinning her to the wall, the other fumbled at the folds of her cloak and grabbed clumsily at the fabric of her shirt.

            It had happened so fast, so unexpectedly, and Evelyn’s mind was blank with surprised terror. She pushed against the figure before her, and she could hear his rough, drunken voice trying to calm her, saying he just wanted a bit of fun. She heaved against his chest, clawed at his grip, trying desperately to slip away from his fumbling fingers as she turned her head this way and that to avoid his wet mouth. He no longer had her mouth covered with his hand and she was crying out, gasping with her efforts to free herself.

            Her mind was so panicked, so taken off guard, she completely forgot she contained the power of lightning. But she pushed at his waist, hoping she could gain some traction against his soft belly, thinking maybe she could push him off balance. As he pushed back against her, her hand brushed the leather scabbard at her waist…

 

* * *

  

            Cullen walked through the Chantry, frustrated by the circular arguments they had been having around the war table. Leliana was determined to seek the help of the mages to close the Breach, Cullen tried to insist on the Templars, and Josephine tried to diplomatically agree with both sides while Cassandra ranted about the flaws of both options. The Commander had continually repeated his reasoning, imploring them to ask the Templars for help but he seemed outnumbered in opinion. They hadn’t reached any decisions, finally calling it a night once they were all hoarse from raising their voices to make their points heard. And now he’d received word a group of his men had gone missing in the Fallow Mires…

            He turned right as he exited the Chantry and continued toward his tent, trying to decide what to do about his missing forces. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a pleading cry of “no, stop!” Cullen looked up and saw two figures wrestling in the shadows against the stone wall. Suddenly the larger figure gave a strangled cry of pain, but it only seemed to enrage them and they renewed their wrestling with the other figure. Without hesitation Cullen charged forward, fury consuming him at the sound of a desperate, frightened whimper.

            Cullen grabbed the shoulders of the man, pulling him easily away from the small figure he was struggling with. He spun the man around and sunk his gauntleted fist into his soft belly, causing the other man to double up in pain. Cullen had punched him right beside where he had a large gash in his side and he crumpled to the ground, spluttering, blood darkening his shirt. “How dare you!” Cullen roared, towering over the gasping figure before him. “How dare you attack someone within these walls, someone under the protection of the Inquisition!”

            The man continued to blubber in pain, and Cullen pulled him up roughly by his collar. “Get out, now,” the Commander spat, and he pushed the man away from him, causing him to stumble and fall as he tried to scurry away from Cullen’s righteous fury, clutching his bleeding side.

            “Commander!” a voice called; a Templar was approaching at a jog from behind him. “I heard yelling, what’s -”

            “Escort this man from Haven, immediately,” Cullen ordered the Templar. The Templar rushed to comply, grabbing the man by his upper arm and pulling him back to his feet. “He can take his chances in the Frostbacks at this time of night.”

            Cullen took a calming breath, his knuckles aching through his gauntlet from the force of his punch. He turned to the petite figure still cowering against the stone wall, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

            “Herald!” he cried, and he took a few steps toward her, his hand reaching out to her before he stopped himself. He watched as she shakily fumbled with the linen blouse she was wearing with one of her hands, and he realized it was torn, exposing the lily white curve of her breast. She was gripping the dagger he had given her in her other hand, and it had blood dripping from the edge of the blade. His fury surged through him again and he longed to chase the man down when he saw the way she was hanging her head, tears of shame and fear welling in her bright eyes as she looked anywhere but at him.

            Slowly he stepped in front of her, moving so as not to frighten her any more. He cautiously took the dagger from her and wiped the blade with his glove before he stuck it into his belt. He raised his hands to her and clasped the folds of her cloak, pulling it closed around her to shield her, being careful not to touch her as he did so. He saw the tears sliding down her cheeks and he felt his jaw clench, his hands shaking with suppressed rage where they held her cloak shut. He took another steadying breath. “Herald -” he hesitated when she didn’t look up, “Evelyn…”

            She raised her head, looking up at him when he said her name. Her usually bright, inquisitive eyes were more translucent than normal in the moonlight, but hurt reflected back at him where he normally saw curious wonder. She bit her bottom lip, trying not to let out a sob. He watched her patiently, looking over her face and seeing red marks on her skin from the struggle and the man’s facial hair. His jaw muscles flexed again but he tried to appear reassuring to her, hoping she couldn’t tell how angry he was.

            “Are you all right?” he asked finally, holding her gaze.

            “I -” her voice broke and another tear escaped down her cheek. He was seized by the urge to wipe it away, to catch every tear that escaped, but he dared not touch her after what she had just experienced. She took a deep breath and tried to find her voice again. “I forgot I was a mage.”

            It was a quiet confession, and her lip quivered after she said it, but she didn’t look away from him. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief that she’d actually had the dagger with her when he heard her words. “That’s not your fault,” he murmured after a moment. “None of this is your fault.”

            She looked down finally, more tears sliding down her cheeks. Cullen glanced around them and saw that there were several soldiers standing further along the path, standing ready in case they were needed. They must have heard his shouts, seen the Templar escorting the attacker though the gates. He shook his head at them and gestured for them to return to their posts. He looked back down at her and saw her shaky hands trying to hold the folds of her cloak together. “I’ll escort you back to your quarters,” he told her, but when she tried to take a step her legs gave out and she stumbled. He caught her easily, instinctively pulling her against him as he did. Remembering himself he gently held her away from him, trying to support her until she could stand on her own. Her legs kept trembling, though, and she seemed unable to stand without support.

            “Evelyn, may I carry you?” he asked quietly.


	8. Mage and Templar

            She barely inclined her head in a nod, consenting to his request, before he stooped and picked her up easily. Cullen held her tight against him, and she rested her head against the fur mantle that draped his shoulders. Evelyn took a steadying breath as the Commander made sure she was securely tucked in his arms, her cloak still closed in front of her. The fur atop his shoulders fluttered with each of her breaths, tickling her nose and her cheek, and when she inhaled, she noticed how the smell of leather and smoke clung to the mantle.

            The Commander began to carefully make his way down the sloping path of the village, and she allowed her mind to wander where it wanted. She noticed the sounds of the tavern still drifting through the air, and bitterly she wondered why she hadn’t just gone to join Varric and listen to him spin tales for her. But he would have continued his attempts to make her laugh, which he had begun more earnestly each night in the Hinterlands when they all started to notice how quiet she looked as she thought about the fighting.

            Cullen halted in his tracks suddenly, and shifted to the side of the path, covering them in shadows. She saw it, now; a group of soldiers making their way to their tents before them. The Commander waited until the group had disappeared further down the way before he stepped back onto the stone path and took up his steady pace once more.

            Evelyn snuggled her face against the fur and she saw him glance down at her. Cassandra had said he had carried her from the Temple ruins, and she wondered if it had been like this. He was walking purposefully, his arms firm around her, as though she were the most precious cargo he could imagine carrying. She felt a calm washing over her, and she marveled at the feeling. He was a Templar, but a warm Templar, so different from the cold ones she had grown up around. She mused over their differences, Templar and mage as they were, and she wondered if it was a mage, the Herald of Andraste, or simply Evelyn that he carried so close against his chest.

            They reached the door to her hut, and Cullen stooped slightly as he pushed it open with his shoulder, making sure he didn’t bump any part of her against the frame. Once inside he hesitated, and seemed unsure of where to set her down. After a moment’s indecision he took a few long strides to the bed and knelt, setting her softly to sit on its edge. The wool of her cloak caught against part of his armor as he tried to step back and pulled the folds open, exposing her once more. She gave a tiny gasp and saw his cheeks redden as he saw her, and silence fell between them. For a moment, it felt as though time had stopped before he quickly lifted his gaze from her chest, looking anywhere but her as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

            “Maker’s Breath,” he gasped. “Evel – Herald, I’m sorry.”

            She lifted a shaky hand to the fastening that had caught on her cloak, since he had tensed and now knelt motionless before her. His presence took up all of her view; he was so close all she could see what his averted face, his jaw muscles clenching. She fumbled for a moment before managing to free him and he quickly stood and backed away from her several paces, still avoiding her gaze.

            “Please, Herald, forgive me,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he studied the floor. He was giving her time to adjust her cloak, and she obligingly closed the folds before herself once more.

            “It’s all right, Comm – Cullen,” she told him. It was the first time she had addressed him by his name. He dropped his hand from his neck and raised his eyes to hers. His gaze was still so warm, and she actually felt herself giggle. Normally the Commander looked so fierce, almost like a mighty lion, and yet now he was suddenly awkward, fidgeting and slightly hunched before her as he watched her laughing at the blush spreading across his cheeks.

            When her giggles had ceased he cleared his throat again and looked around the room. “Will you be all right?” he asked. “I can station a guard outside your door, if you would like me to.”

            “I think I’ll be all right,” she replied. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

            The scar in the corner of his mouth tugged up as he gave a lopsided grin at some thought that seemed to cross his mind. “If you’re sure…”

            “I am,” she nodded. “And Com – Cullen…Thank you.”

            He held her gaze for a long moment, and then he gave a curt nod and began to take his leave. He turned back suddenly and removed the dagger from where he had slipped it into his belt. Walking over to her he held it out on his palm so that she could take the handle.

            “I was heading to give that back to you, actually,” she said, not taking the dagger from him.

            “I gave it to you,” he said firmly, holding the dagger out more persistently. “I insist you keep it.”

            Evelyn gave a small smile and took the dagger from him. He gave another jerk of his head and walked back to the door. He stopped with his hand on the door, looking back as though he wanted to say something to her. Evelyn watched him expectantly, but he shook his head and muttered “Good night” as he slipped through the doorway, firmly closing the door behind him.

            Evelyn sat staring at the door, wondering what he had wanted to say, but the emotions she had tried to suppress finally overwhelmed her. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, but her mind instantly conjured the image of a dark bearded face before her and she opened them quickly to look around the room.

            After rushing to the door to bolt it against intrusion, she removed her cloak and placed the dagger back in the scabbard, then pulled it from her sash and placed it on her pillow. She quickly pulled off the torn blouse and her skirt, kicking her leather slippers at the wall before searching in the trunk at the foot of the bed for the brown robes she usually wore in Haven. Once securely covered by their fabric, she pulled the sheets back from the bed and slipped inside, tugging the covers up over her head.

            When sleep eluded her, she tried to focus on her accomplishments in the Hinterlands, trying to push the bad memories of that evening and the past several weeks to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to think about the quiet confession she had made, the stark realization that even though she had assured him she didn’t need her staff, the simple fact of the matter was when she had needed it most, she had hesitated and hadn’t used her magic. So many weeks of killing had taken their toll on her and she hadn’t been willing to do it again, even though she needed to act to save herself.

            _I forgot I was a mage._

 

* * *

 

            Cullen sat staring blankly at the parchment before him, his eyes unfocused. It was late, and he was tired, but he needed to figure out what to do about his missing patrol. By all accounts it appeared they had been captured, and he mulled over his rescue options, rolling his tongue absently around his mouth and over his teeth as he thought. But other thoughts intruded, and he became distracted as he remembered the events of a few hours ago.

            White hot rage still bubbled in his stomach, and he wished he hadn’t let that scum go so easily. One punch hadn’t been enough. He had deserved to be thrown in their cells for the rest of his miserable life, not set loose. If he had known it was the Herald, he would have acted differently, punished the man more harshly. He realized suddenly if he had known it was the Herald, he probably would have just killed the man with his bare hands on the spot. It was probably better that he hadn’t realized it, since that would have been vengeance and not justice. The Inquisition needed to be better than that. He needed to be better than that.

            He clenched his hand in a fist and leaned his forehead against it, trying to push aside the image his mind had continued to conjure all night while he tried to work. Shame washed over him as he again remembered her exposed breast, so beautiful and so close to his hand. Maker, what was wrong with him? It had been over a year since he’d been with a woman – actually closer to two now, he realized – but that didn’t excuse his staring or the path his mind had traveled at the sight. She was the Herald of Andraste. He had noticed she was beautiful, far superior to the few lovers he had been with, before. He had thought he only noticed because it was just one of many facts about who she was; a beautiful young woman, and it had been too long since he’d been with someone. But when he saw that bit of naked skin before him, he had lost all sense, a hot feeling spreading in his loins, hardening and throbbing in his breeches, his mouth dry before he remembered who she was and had looked away. And her laughter, her giggles as she watched him blush, ashamed of himself.

             _It’s because you’re not worthy of her_ , a scolding voice echoed in his head. And it was true, he wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t worthy of being in the same space as her, breathing the same air she did, not after everything he had done. He certainly wasn’t worthy of holding her in his arms, although he had done so twice now. She was the Herald of Andraste, their savior, sent by the Maker. He was a disgraceful former Templar, a man who had been cruel and distrustful to others for years, a man who had punished innocents for actions committed against him by others. He was the last person who should be looking at her like that, thinking of her that way. It degraded her, because he was so despicable for what he had done, who he had been, and she was so sacred and good. It had hit him so suddenly, the desperate lust for her, when she was so close to him he could smell the crisp scent of her soap clinging to her still damp hair. He hadn’t known, hadn’t realized that lust was why he enjoyed looking at her, talking to her. And for him to feel that desire, to imagine touching her after what she had just been through… _Maker, forgive me_.

            He pounded his fist against his forehead several times, trying to banish the memory, to punish himself for being so contemptible. He felt no better than the man who had tried to attack her.

            He had joined the Inquisition to redeem himself, to make up for all of his past wrongs and who he had been. He clasped his hands together against his forehead, and resolved to fight it, resolved to bury the longing deep within himself. He was the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and he resigned himself to protecting her, to keeping her safe at all cost, acting as her shield while maintaining his distance. He needed to contain his lust, because nothing could ever come of it. She deserved the touch of someone who hadn’t done the things he had done, for someone who wasn’t tainted as he was. As much as it pained him, he pushed the memories aside and refocused on the reports littered before him.


	9. Just in Case

            Evelyn’s wanderings through the Fade made her feel even more restless, and when she awoke she felt as though she hadn’t slept at all. She had spent the whole night dreaming of searching desperately for someone, looking over her shoulder constantly as though pursued. Nothing had approached her, though; neither demon nor spirit, and she realized she had been watching for her attacker, worried he would find her in her dreams too.

            She sat up and rubbed her eyes, sighing as she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t tell what had been worse; the man struggling with her or the hesitation and doubt that had caused her to forget she wielded the power to protect herself. She had been incredibly doubtful of Cullen suggesting there would be a time she needed to rely on something other than her magic, and she scolded herself now for being so naïve. She had never trained for combat, and she was adjusting to all of this poorly.

            Determined to push it out of her mind, she stood and stretched, her muscles still aching from her time in the Hinterlands as well as her exertions from the night before. She shook her head; every movement she made was a reminder of everything horrible that had happened in the last few weeks. She couldn’t get away from it all no matter how hard she tried.

            There was a knock on her door and she approached cautiously. “Who is it?” she called through the wood.

            “Cassandra,” came the Seeker’s deep voice. “May I come in, Herald?”

            Evelyn quickly unbolted the door and opened it to admit the other woman. Cassandra walked into the room, closely observing as Evelyn closed the door behind her.

            “What can I do for you, Seeker?” Evelyn asked, folding her arms and waiting for the other woman to speak.

            “I was wondering if you were all right,” Cassandra began slowly, still watching Evelyn with a deep frown on her face. “I understand from the Commander that you were, ah – attacked, last night. I wanted to be sure you were not harmed or…” the other woman trailed off. Evelyn gave a small smile at the concern the other woman was showing. It made her feel slightly better, for some reason.

            “I’m -” Evelyn felt her voice choke. She had intended to say she was all right, but the words caught in her throat. “I’m not harmed, no. But I’m ashamed of myself.”

            “What that man did is not your fault,” the Seeker rushed to assure her.

            “Not about that,” Evelyn murmured. She could barely speak above a whisper. “I was so upset, after everything that happened in the Hinterlands, I…I froze. I didn’t want to kill him, I didn’t use my magic. I forgot I even had magic, actually, I was so terrified my mind went blank. I’m lucky I had the dagger the Commander had given me and thought to use it, otherwise…”

            Cassandra was watching her intently, thinking. “The Hinterlands was your first real experience fighting, was it not? Besides the few demons we fought before the Breach?”

            Evelyn nodded, keeping her eyes down.

            “Battle never gets easier, it never becomes normal or easy to kill another person,” the Seeker continued. “I know that it must have been hard, fighting other mages, wondering if anyone you knew was among them. But those people – the ones we fought, even the mages, and that man – they were trying to cause you harm, trying to kill you even. The unfortunate fact is it is you or them. I’d like for you to try to remember that you are valuable, you are worth saving. So when you are faced with the decision, please, fight for yourself without hesitation.”

            Evelyn raised her eyebrows in wonder as she met the other woman’s eyes. It sounded like such a simple thing, but somehow so meaningful coming from Cassandra, who had initially been so distrustful of her. “Thank you, Cassandra.”

            The Seeker gave a curt nod. “I am glad to see you are unharmed, for the most part. I’m sorry for what happened.”

            “I’m just a little shaken, I’ll be all right.”

            “May I make a recommendation?” Cassandra asked, and Evelyn nodded. “We will be here for a while to prepare before we make our trip to Val Royeaux. Take the time to practice, treat it as you would have your training at the Circle. You need to keep your skills sharp, to prepare for the future. The Hinterlands were not our last fight, and in the future hesitation could cost you your life.”

            Evelyn nodded her agreement and the Seeker gave her shoulder a quick pat before she turned and left the hut. Looking around, her gaze fell on her armor where it lay. She considered taking Cassandra’s advice and going back to the boulder she had practiced on. But another thought crossed her mind, the memory from the night before. Even though she’d had a dagger it had been relatively ineffective because of her inexperience with it. If she was going to be in more fights, she mused, maybe she needed to take the Commander up on his suggestion to help her expand her skill set just in case.

 

* * *

 

           Keeping his distance was easier said than done, he realized, when she sought him out in the training fields. He had spent the morning in the war room, where he had told Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine of the events of the previous evening and had suggested they allow the Herald another day to rest before they decided on their next course of action. They had briefly resumed their fruitless arguments of the night before, and he had discussed their options for his missing patrol in the Fallow Mires. He had proceeded to the training fields beyond the gate after the war council, and he had looped around the long way, determined to avoid her hut, not wishing to be reminded of his shame. After a few hours of snapping in frustration at his recruits about their lack of proper form, he felt that prickling sensation of being watched and had turned to see her standing not far from the fields.

            It was rare that she came down from the steps when she watched, and he saw that Cassandra was not there and therefore could not be who she was searching for so intently. She was wearing the armor she had worn into the Hinterlands, and he noticed the small dagger he had given her hanging from her belt, but she was without her staff. She watched him for a moment more, and then began to approach. He froze as she walked toward him, unable to think of a way to tactfully ignore her. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, his cheeks burning as he remembered.

            The Herald halted before him, and she gave a warm, slightly hesitant smile. He prayed she couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks for what it was, hoping she would decide it was from the cold. But she was standing there, in front of him, still giving him that small smile, whatever she thought of the flush on his face. “Hello,” she said softly, holding his gaze with her unusual eyes.

            “Herald,” he addressed her with a brisk nod, mostly to remind himself of who she was, and how he shouldn’t call her anything else. He saw the smile falter a little, her brows furrowing. “How are you this morning?”

            She gave a jerky nod and quickly looked down at her feet. “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” she said quietly, and he understood from her tone that she did not wish to speak of it.

            “Is there something you need?” he asked, instead of forcing the issue.

            She folded her arms against herself and kicked a toe in the snow absently for a moment before she answered. Was he wrong or did she look embarrassed? “I was hoping you could help me with something, yes.”

            “Of course,” he replied immediately, and mentally he chided himself for his eagerness. Her eyes lit up and her smile returned as her head snapped up to look at him. “I mean, if I am able, of course I will help you.”

            She released her arms and let them hang at her sides, one hand coming to rest gently on the dagger at her belt. He tried not to think about the scabbard as she lightly fingered it, or the sentimental impulse that had made him give it to her. “I was thinking that maybe you were right, I do need some combat training,” she spoke, and he returned his gaze to her face, determined to remain focused. “I’m sure Cassandra informed you of my struggles in the Hinterlands, and after last – well, I think you made a fair point that I couldn’t always rely on my magic.”

            “That’s not what I meant,” he corrected, again frustrated with how eager he was to respond. “I just meant that it would be a useful skill to learn, should you ever need it.”

            She shook her head. “It’s obvious I should have taken you up on it sooner, I needed that skill last night, and I need to be better prepared in the future.”

            “Well, if you’d like, I can find you a sparring partner,” he began to turn away, to look for one of his soldiers, someone with patience and proper form with light weapons.

            “No,” she said behind him, and he looked back at her. “I was hoping that you could teach me. Personally.”

            Cullen stared at her, momentarily speechless. He found himself mentally warring with himself; his duty to the Inquisition and therefore assistance to the Herald was combating his new resolve to keep her at arm’s length. “I -”

            “Not right now, I know you’re busy,” she hastily interrupted, looking over his shoulder at the recruits. “But if you had some time - maybe later, or in the morning before your duties,” she trailed off and watched him intently, waiting for his answer.

            “I,” he began again, and then cleared his throat. “Yes, I could do that.”

            Her bright eyes lit up eagerly at his words. “When should we begin?”

            “Well if you’d like, I could start you with something simple now, and I can spar with you later, after I’ve dismissed the recruits.” He tried not to picture how close they might get to each other when they sparred. He was determined to be professional.

            “All right,” she agreed, and he led her to the edge of the sparring recruits, toward one of the dummies.

            He halted and turned to face her. “We’ll start you with that dagger,” he motioned at her belt. She quickly unsheathed the small dagger and held it in her palm, offering the handle to him as he had offered it to her last night. He stared at where it rested in her delicate hand, and noticed torn blisters littering the base of her fingers on her palm.  _No doubt from her time in the Hinterlands_. He mentally shook himself and asked her to show him how she thought she should hold the dagger. She fumbled a bit, gripping it too tightly, too low, unsure and doubting herself, most likely assuming it didn’t matter. But he needed to start her with the very basics.

            Cullen gave a small smirk and tried correcting her, describing how she should hold it, trying to explain without touching her. But she stared at him, confused, and couldn’t quite get the hang of it. He resigned himself to doing it. He steeled himself and resolved to think nothing of it.

            “Here,” he said, and he walked to stand beside her. He reached a hand out and closed his fingers over hers, showing her the best way to hold the dagger by placing his hand in the exact position. He kept his hand over hers, moving her arm in thrusts through the air, explaining how that grip would help her maintain the dagger even in close quarters. She shifted as she let him direct her through a hypothetical fight until she was leaning closer to him. Her shoulder was pressing to his armor, that same crisp scent, almost like a spring rain, drifting up to him from her hair.

            He cleared his throat and stepped away from her, releasing her hand as he did so. “Now show me,” he directed, and she fixed her grip, mimicking his, and clumsily thrust the dagger through the air as he had. “Very good,” he remarked, smiling when she got it right.

            Cullen gestured her to the wooden dummy, determined to show her the easiest weak spots to reach with a dagger. That, at least, would hopefully keep him from having to touch her. He could already feel his resolve slipping each time she smiled at him.


	10. Perfect Form

            Evelyn listened intently as Cullen described the best weak points, gesturing to the dummy as he explained the advantages of each spot, occasionally giving a thrust of an imaginary dagger to the spot he indicated.  He explained why she had barely managed to wound her attacker the night before when she told him where she had aimed. He gave her an alternative for the future, but when she frowned, struggling a little to understand how under a man’s arm was an advantageous weak spot, he stepped forward and raised his own arm.

            “Here,” he said, and he caught her loose hand in his gloved one and directed it to the spot he meant, demonstrating on himself. “Armor doesn’t cover this spot, even on heavily armored opponents, like Templars.” He guided her hand around so she could feel how squishy the unarmored area was, and she was momentarily distracted by how warm he felt. Her hand was cold from the biting wind that cut through the mountains. She’d forgotten her gloves, and it was a temporary relief to feel so much heat on her fingers.

            “If your opponent raises his arms as if to attack and you’re this close, taking aim under his arm, in between the armor – it could be one of your best options,” he continued. She nodded, understanding, and her fingers flexed against his underarm as she pictured trying to aim for that spot with her dagger. He flinched, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly released her hand and stepped back from her. She watched him as he cleared his throat and retreated to the dummy, placing it between them. She frowned, confused by his posture, but said nothing.

            Cullen continued describing the basics of close combat to her, occasionally halting to look behind her at the progress of the sparring recruits behind them.

            “Thank you, Commander,” she murmured when he did this for the fifth time. “We can continue later, if you’d like to return to your recruits.”

            “Perhaps I should, yes,” he agreed absently, and he gave her a short nod before he swept past her and approached the recruits, yelling corrections to a few trainees as soon as he reached them. Evelyn sheathed her small dagger and followed him, closely observing the sparring taking place. She stopped beside the Commander, and he glanced down at her, doing a slight double take as he realized she was staying to watch the training. He returned his gaze to the recruits and continued to call out corrections, but she noticed a change now in his tone when he did, no longer as harsh as it usually was.

            They passed a long time in peace, Evelyn watching the trainees intently and the Commander correcting them as needed. Finally Evelyn broke the silence. “You’re an excellent Commander, Cullen.”

            He glanced down at her, the warm look in his eyes indecipherable. “Thank you, Herald.”

            She bristled at his use of her title. The previous evening he had addressed her by her name, and she worried that his renewed formality spoke of a reversal of their growing, promising camaraderie. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

            “What?” he turned to look at her again, caught off guard by her question, his brows crinkled together.

            “I – I just wondered if something was wrong. You keep saying ‘Herald,’ so stiffly. I thought maybe I had done something wrong, or offended you,” she said, watching him closely as he shifted from one foot to the other beside her, staring at the recruits. She couldn’t decipher his mood. Despite the warmth she could read in him, she found herself consistently unable to read him as she could so many others.

            “No, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he finally responded, eyes still fixed straight ahead of him.

            “Can you tell me about yourself?” she asked, trying to pull him out of his reverie. “I realize I know little about you, save that you’re from Ferelden and you served under Meredith in Kirkwall. If we’re going to be working together, I’d like to know you better.”

            He hesitated, glancing sidelong at her before he replied. “What would you like to know?”

            “Why did you join the Order?” She folded her arms, watching him with her usual intensity.

            “You there! There’s a shield in your hand, man, block with it!” he called out to a recruit, and she waited for a moment to see if he would answer her question or had even heard her. Finally he turned to look at her, fixing her with his whole attention. “I could think of no better calling than protecting those in need. I used to beg the Templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first, they merely humored me. But I must have shown promise, or at least a willingness to learn, because the Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf.” He paused, thinking, and she stayed silent, watching him. “They agreed to send me for training.”

            “How old were you?” Evelyn asked.

            “I was thirteen when I left home,” he answered, and he placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, a stance she noticed he regularly took.

            “Thirteen?” she repeated. “That’s still so young.”

            “I wasn’t the youngest there, others are promised to the Chantry in infancy,” he pointed out. “But I didn’t take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen.”

            “How long were you a part of the Order?”

            “Officially, almost fifteen years. That is, until I left the Order over a year ago; it was fifteen years since I took on the full duties of the role.”

            “When you were eighteen,” she mused. He nodded, and she let her gaze wander over his face, realizing suddenly that he was nearly fifteen years older than she was. He didn’t look much older, but she noticed now the slight crinkling around his eyes, the few lines on his forehead. She wondered how much more of life he had experienced than she had, and she felt a little envious.

            “My only experiences with Templars were in the Circle, but we hardly interacted, or spoke at all,” she said. He gave a small nod and a crooked grin. “Is that typical?”

            “A habit often mistaken for coldness, I’m sure,” he agreed, voicing the thoughts she often had about Templars. “But the Templars’ role requires a certain distance from their charges, so that if the worst should happen, they can act swiftly, without hesitation.”

            She nodded slightly, conceding his point. It didn’t make the cold sensation she felt when she saw a Templar turn their gaze on her any less disquieting. “Did you ever attend a Harrowing?” she asked, thinking of the Templars who had attended hers.

            “A few, yes,” his voice was low, and she decided not to ask him if he had any stories about Harrowings to share, and she wondered why she had asked him in the first place. If he did, they probably weren’t stories he wanted to share, so she changed the subject.

            “Did you enjoy your training like you thought you would when you were younger?”

            “I wanted to learn everything,” he smiled. “If I was giving my life to this, I would be the best Templar I could.”

            “You were a model student?” she lightheartedly teased. He chuckled as he regarded her closely.

            “I wanted to be. I wasn’t always successful,” he admitted. “Watching a candle burn down while reciting the Chant of Transfigurations wasn’t exactly the most exciting task.”

            She smiled, and he returned it, the scar at the corner of his mouth tugging up again in the quirking way he had. It put her at ease after his distance earlier. “Do Templars take vows? ‘I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages?’ That sort of thing?” she asked with a giggle.

            He chuckled again. “There’s a vigil first, a chance to focus on the path our life will take in dedication and service to others. It’s supposed to be a peaceful time for reflection, but it’s hard to feel that way since your whole life is about to change. And then we take our vows and we’re given our first draught of lyrium, and receive its power.” She noticed him shift slightly, his grip tightening on his sword; he had shifted from speaking of a general ‘Templar’ to saying ‘we.” After a brief pause he continued. “A Templar also vows not to seek material wealth or acknowledgement, for their life belongs to the Maker and the path they have chosen.”

            “I noticed in my time at the Circle that none of the Templars I knew of were married or had children,” she remarked. “Are there expectations, vows of celibacy?”

            His eyebrows raised slightly and he cleared his throat, shifting again on his feet. “Why -” he lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “That’s not expected, no…Templars can marry, but there are rules, and the Order must grant permission. Some Templars take vows of celibacy, but…it’s certainly not expected.”

            “So have you taken a vow of celibacy?” she asked, and then bit her lip when she realized her blundering as a blush spread across his cheeks. Evelyn had meant it innocently, merely out of curiosity about his life in the Order and how much he had dedicated to that path before he had given it up. The words were past her lips before she could stop them.

            “I – ah, no…I’ve taken no such vows,” he murmured, dropping the hand that rubbed his neck as he turned back to the trainees sparring behind them. Evelyn continued chewing her bottom lip as she also turned to watch the training, her arms folded tight against her chest, an embarrassed heat creeping across her face. The problem with spending her life always observing was that sometimes she didn’t know when to stop searching for answers and when to let others reveal themselves naturally. She had frequently crossed this boundary at the Circle, and it had not endeared her to those around her. Evelyn hadn’t meant to come across as nosy, and she shot a furtive glance up at the Commander’s face, wondering if she should just leave and forget about his promise to spar with her. He looked distracted and wouldn’t glance down at her, though she felt certain he could tell she was looking at him.

            “All right, men!” he suddenly yelled loudly beside her, stepping forward to get the recruits’ attention. Slowly the flurry of movement around them ceased. “I think you’ve earned the rest of the evening off. Same time tomorrow, and _don’t_ overdo it at the tavern. Dismissed.”

            The men in the field began to make their way to the gates, and Cullen turned back to face her. “Did you still want to spar?” he asked.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn was horrible at this, she decided, as again she thrust and he easily deflected her practice sword so that it flew out of her hand. “You need to hold it as though it’s an extension of yourself,” he said as she scurried to pick up the small sword from the snow. “Think of it as your staff. I’ve seen you wield that - it looked natural, like it was a part of you. Same thing with a sword, like I showed you.”

            “This feels different,” she grumbled, trying to take her stance again, focused on getting her feet in the right position.

            “You’re doing well, really. You just let yourself get flustered,” he took his own stance across from her, raising his practice sword as he faced her.

            She lunged again, but this time was overeager, putting too much force behind her lunge forward to thrust the sword at him. The wood of the practice sword made contact with his breastplate straight on and the sharp rebound caught her off guard. She stumbled, sliding in the snow, her arms reaching out to try to catch herself as she dropped her sword once more. She grabbed his arm as she fell forward, trying to steady herself, but the slick snow made her lose her traction and she tumbled, pulling Cullen down with her with a surprised yell.

            The several inches of snow beneath them padded the worst of the fall, but Evelyn felt the wind knocked from her as she made contact with the ground and the Commander landed on top of her. The shock of the fall left her after a moment, and Evelyn began to laugh.

            “Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered frantically, trying to untangle himself from her, but each attempt to brace and lift himself off of her was foiled by his hands sinking deeper into the snow under them. “Herald, I’m so sorry.”

            She continued laughing and he managed to raise his head to look at her, his eyes wide in shock. “Oh, Cullen – I should be the one apologizing. I meant to take you down but I didn’t think I would literally. I was thinking more, you know, make  _you_  drop  _your_  sword instead, this time.”

            He stared at her in surprise for another moment, and then joined in with her laughter, his armored chest reverberating with his deep chuckles against her. “Well, I think you finally won a round. It wasn’t perfect form, but – certainly effective.”

            Her laughter was renewed at his teasing, her whole body shaking with her mirth. She felt Cullen recoil from her, again trying to remove himself from where he lay atop her. Finally he pushed himself with his knee, finding traction in the snow-covered ground beneath where she lay, her legs spread on either side of his hips. He continued his hasty retreat and she stopped laughing, watching him as he brushed himself off and cleared his throat before he reached a hand down to help her up. He wasn’t looking at her.

            “Are you all right?” she asked as she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, concerned by his reaction. She hoped she hadn’t injured him with her overeager clumsiness.

            “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he hurried to assure her. His voice was stiff and he released her hand as soon as she was on her feet. “Let’s continue this another time. I think we’ve made plenty of progress for one day.” He raised his eyes to hers briefly and gave her a curt nod before he turned and departed, picking his practice sword out of the snow as he passed it. Evelyn stared after him, confused and a little hurt by his sudden departure. She couldn’t understand it at all.


	11. Avoidance

            Cullen hadn’t thought it possible, but trying to avoid her was more distressing to him than the torment of being near her. After the way their first sparring lesson had ended with him laying between her legs, he had resolved to defer their lessons and not attempt another for the time being. She sought him out daily, asking when he would be available, her bright eyes cutting into him as she innocently stared up at him, eagerly awaiting his answer. Some days when she found him at the sparring grounds, he was able to pass her off to Cassandra, claiming to be busy but pointing out that Cassandra was practicing alone and could offer her tips. The first time this had happened the Seeker turned to stare at him after the Herald had asked to join her. He had avoided the Seeker’s gaze, overzealously correcting a young recruit as he tried to act like he hadn’t seen her questioning look.

            Once he even managed to convince Leliana to train her, claiming to be busy but loudly suggesting to the Herald that their spymaster was proficient with a dagger, hoping the nearby woman would hear him. Leliana had, and had been too intrigued by his odd boasting in her favor to refuse the chance to show their young friend some tricks. Leliana watched Cullen back hurriedly away from the pair of them, her eyebrow raised sharply in question at his apologetic shrug before she began her lesson. The hurt look that was beginning to show in the Herald’s eyes every time he brushed her off stayed with him, and he found himself distracted by its memory for the rest of the day each time it happened.

            After more than a week of these awkward escapes, he found some respite when she left with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas for Val Royeaux. She was only gone a few days, and though he no longer had to spend his days avoiding her, he found his already disturbed sleep interrupted by his memories of her exposed breast and the way it had felt to lay above her, in between her legs in the snow. He frequently awoke with a start, sure he had just smelled the crisp scent of rain that seemed to cling to her, before he would slump back against his pillows with a groan. Half-heartedly he almost wished for the nightmares to return and save him from this self-inflicted torture. At least the nightmares reminded him why he needed to keep himself away from her.

            The Herald and the other three returned from Val Royeaux, unsuccessful but with two more people in tow; an odd elf with a bow and the First Enchanter of the Circle in Orlais. When the Herald delivered her report in the war room, he kept his gaze fixed on the map as much as he could, even though he felt her piercing gaze turn upon him frequently. The news about the Templars and Grand Enchanter Fiona’s offer startled him, however, and he momentarily forgot that he was avoiding her as he raised his eyes to meet hers as he listened. The war council’s usual debate about who to approach was reignited with this new information, but this time the Herald stood watching their argument intently.

            “What do you think?” Josephine suddenly cut across the debate and asked the Herald directly. The eyes of all three of them fell upon her, and he watched as she shifted on her feet, her eyes intense as she thought in silence.

            “I think we should go to Redcliffe, and see what the Grand Enchanter wants,” she finally answered decisively. Cullen wanted to be angry that she hadn’t agreed with his point, that none of them seemed to see his rationale, but the firm way she asserted herself and her thoughts left him in awe. Cassandra had told him of her quiet resolve and hidden aptitude for leading, but he finally saw it for himself. Though he wanted to argue the point further, he didn’t, and let the Herald plan with the others for their approach.

            The war council insisted they take a bit of time to allow Leliana’s scouts to assess if Redcliffe was a trap, and so they turned their focus to other matters. When Cassandra asked about his missing patrol, he felt the piercing gaze of the Herald turn upon him. “Some men are missing?”

            He explained the situation and saw her eyes light up. “I’d like to help, if I can,” she told him.

            And so she set off with Cassandra, Varric, and the other mage, Vivienne, to the Fallow Mires in search of his missing patrol. In the meantime the war council members who were left behind mulled over the offer they had received from a mercenary group called Bull’s Chargers, led by a Qunari called The Iron Bull, as well as Leliana’s information about a lone Grey Warden she had tracked down in the Hinterlands. Cullen listened to Leliana’s worries about the odd disappearance of the Wardens as he stared at the offer from the Bull’s Chargers, focusing intently on the part where the leader of the troop offered to serve as the Herald of Andraste’s personal bodyguard. If the Qunari proved to be as capable as he claimed, Cullen found himself drawn more and more to the idea of being able to send a personal guard with the Herald wherever she went. It was a task he was unable to perform himself, though he wished desperately to keep her safe.

            They sent her a report detailing their plans, and the Herald followed up on these leads after rescuing Cullen’s men. She recruited the Grey Warden, Blackwall, as well at the Bull’s Chargers into the Inquisition before she made her way to Redcliffe to meet with the Rebel mages. The report that was hastily sent from Cassandra implied that the situation was stranger and more ominous than they had originally suspected, but she didn’t elaborate. Cullen waited restlessly for their return, and when they arrived a day later he stood at the gate, watching impatiently for them to enter the village. The Herald approached, looking weary, followed closely by The Iron Bull. The Qunari towered over Cullen’s own substantial height, almost twice his width as well, and he seemed to be taking his job as the Herald’s personal guard seriously. He followed close behind her and glared at anyone he thought was getting too close; though he only had one good eye, it looked like he was keenly aware of everything going on around him. Cullen felt relieved by the sight.

            Cassandra led the way to the war room where she and the Herald told them of their meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona and the situation between the rebel mages and Tevinter. The news was shocking, and deeply troubling, and their tired debate about whether they should approach the mages or Templars to close the Breach was renewed with vigor. Cullen noticed the Herald did not participate, instead staring intently at the map that sat between them on the table, chewing absently on her thumb. Before he had a chance to ask her thoughts, however, the door to the war room burst open and a strange man entered with a moustache and a swagger, looking over those before him. He gave a quick wink to Cassandra, who huffed in response, and the man gave a hasty up and down examination of Cullen before his eyes finally came to rest on the Herald.

            “My Lady Herald, I was hoping I’d find you here,” he greeted her affectionately, wiggling his eyebrows with mild humor. Cullen was surprised to see the Herald perk up slightly when she saw their guest, a small smile coming upon her face.

            “Dorian,” she reached a hand out to the man. “I wasn’t sure we would see you so soon - or at all, actually.”

            The man she called Dorian stepped forward and took her hand, lifting it to his lips to press a lingering kiss upon her fingers. Cullen’s insides burned despite his best attempt to ignore them. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you again,” Dorian told her, as he released her hand and stepped up to the table, looking over the map. He finally raised his gaze to those who faced him, confusion evident on their faces.

            “Well, I’m sure you have plenty of questions, and lucky enough for you, I may have some answers,” he told them with a confident smile.

 

* * *

 

            “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Cullen protested, shifting where he stood, his hands resting atop the pommel of his sword, their familiar tingling and aching bothering him as he tried to focus. Beside him, Leliana bristled.

            “Commander, I believe it may be our only way -” the spymaster began.

            “It’s not, we could still go to the Templars,” he interrupted firmly. But he saw the frown the Herald made at his words, saw her shake her head.

            “No,” she interjected before Leliana could begin to reiterate her point. The Herald finally raised her eyes to those around her, and Cullen noticed the usual crackling of her clear gaze was intensified when she caught his eyes, shaking her head as she disagreed with him. She seemed incredibly determined. “This is the way. I believe the mages are the best option to seal the Breach. But I also believe we can’t let their agreement with Tevinter stand. It’s too dangerous – for everyone.”

            “I’ll try not to take offense at that,” Dorian quipped beside her.

            Cullen sighed, raising a hand to rub his temples, his head aching as much as his fingers did. “There’s still the obvious matter that it’s assuredly a trap. We don’t have the manpower to storm the keep.”

            “Maybe we don’t have to,” the Herald mused, and she raised one of her arms from where it was crossed before her chest to trace her lips with a finger as she stared at the map, thinking. Cullen’s aching mind tried to distract him with jealousy of her finger, and he watched intently as she absently ran it along the outline of her full mouth. He shifted on his feet as he tried to banish that particular thought. _Not now_ , he chided himself. Not ever, he should have chided himself, but his head throbbed too painfully to remember he had made those thoughts off limits to himself.

            “Alexius will be expecting you,” Dorian murmured, who stood close beside the Herald across the table from the Commander. Cullen contemplated telling the man to step away from her as his head gave another painful twinge.

            “What if that’s our advantage?” Josephine chimed in. Leliana watched their Ambassador, thoughtfully considering her words. “We could give him what he wants, a meeting with the Herald of Andraste…”

            “Meanwhile we sneak in a few agents, dispatch his guards,” Leliana continued the thought, and she nodded. “I believe that could work. There is a passage, a secret route for the family, directly into the castle from the village – not large enough for troops, but enough for some agents.”

            “We can’t command this of her,” Cassandra said, and the three women turned to stare at the Herald. Cullen hesitated, realizing what they were asking. He raised his gaze to the young woman standing across from him to see that she was considering them all carefully.

            “You’ll be the one putting yourself at risk, it has to be your decision,” Cullen said softly. The Herald met his eyes and gave a small nod.

            “It’s our best option,” she replied with definite finality. “I say we do it. Find a way to get some people inside.”

            “Excellent,” Dorian clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “When do we leave?”

 


	12. The Future That Can Never Be

            “I’d rather talk about time magic,” Evelyn said airily, one arm crossed before her casually, propping the elbow of her other arm as she gestured gracefully at the room with her marked hand. She carefully watched Magister Alexius’ reaction to her words.

            “Wh-what?” the Magister spluttered.

            “The means to achieve it are in this room,” the Magister’s helpful son, Felix, chimed in. Alexius turned a shocked face to his son.

            “Felix, what have you done?” he asked.

            “What needed to be done,” came Dorian’s voice from behind Evelyn as he made his dramatic entrance. He stopped beside her and gave her a fleeting wink.

            The next few moments happened in a flash.

            Evelyn demanded answers about the Elder One, the Venatori and their plans, and suddenly Alexius had gone wild. He pulled an amulet from his pocket and created a swirling purple vortex before himself. Evelyn had cried out but Dorian had done something before she could even react, had thrown himself against her and cast something. She still felt herself swept off her feet, pulled through the magic that twisted before her. She was confused, spinning, her body thumping against someone else, and she instinctively grabbed them as she tried to stabilize herself, feeling herself falling…

            She hit the ground hard, and the other person fell on top of her. She was reminded of the day she had fallen and brought the Commander crashing down on top of her when they sparred. This figure rolled off of her quickly though as she felt her armor becoming soaked; they had landed in shallow water, and it sloshed as her companion pushed into a sitting position, Evelyn slowly doing the same.

            “Dorian,” she observed, seeing who her companion was as they both stood.

            “Yes,” he answered, distracted. He was looking about the room, assessing their situation. After a moment he turned back to look at her. “Are you all right?”

            “I think so,” she replied. “Where are we?”

            Before he could answer her, however, two guards charged into the room and attacked when they saw the pair in the room. Dorian and Evelyn reacted quickly, Evelyn throwing up her shimmering barrier around them as the other mage froze the guards where they stood. Evelyn focused and called a lightning bolt to her, striking and shattering both of the guards into a million sickening pieces.

            She took a deep breath and looked around herself, the feeling of killing still not coming easily to her. The red light that permeated their surroundings finally caught her eye, and she took a tentative step toward the pulsating tower of red lyrium beside her.

            “What’s going on?” she murmured. Dorian stepped beside her and rested a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

            “It appears Alexius’ spell moved us not only through space but also – time. I believe he meant to erase you from time entirely, but I managed to counter it,” he answered. “The question now isn’t just where we are but, when?”

            “He moved us through time?” she turned to face him, her brows raised.

            “Yes. But don’t worry, I’m here with you, now,” he gave her his easy smile, and she oddly felt herself at ease beside him.

            She gave one last look around the dungeon-like room they were in, and then tightened her grip on her staff. She was happy it had made the journey with her. “Let’s get moving. We need to find out what happened.”

            “Right behind you,” the Tevinter told her.

            They wound their way through the dungeons, eventually reaching a cell past some guards in which Cassandra knelt on the floor, praying desperately to the Maker from her knees. Evelyn approached the bars of the cell, staring in disbelief at the state of her Seeker, the woman she was beginning to trust with her whole being. “Cassandra?” she whispered, and the Seeker spun around, disbelief etched on her face as she stared at Evelyn. Her eyes were changed, menacingly glowing red as she took in the woman standing before her.

            “You’re alive,” Cassandra cried. ‘But – I saw you die, Alexius, he -”

            “He moved us through time, it appears,” Dorian interrupted.

            “I didn’t die, Cassandra,” Evelyn said, and she began to try the key she had found on a guard on the lock of Cassandra’s cage.

            “How long has it been?” Dorian asked urgently.

            “One year,” Cassandra answered him, still staring at Evelyn as if she were a trick. The lock finally clicked and Evelyn pulled the door open wide.

            “Cassandra,” Evelyn murmured, staring at the sad state of her friend. “I need to get back, somehow – to make sure this never happens.”

            The Seeker gave her a curt nod. “Yes, you must,” she agreed.

            “Who else is here?” Evelyn asked as they continued on their path.

            “Bull, perhaps, if he is still alive,” Cassandra answered.

            “Anyone else? Varric? Solas? Leliana, or the Commander?”

            Cassandra shook her head. “I do not know about the others, but the Commander is – dead.” At the Seeker’s words Evelyn felt her heart wrench, and her pace slowed. “He died when he led the Inquisition’s assault on the Keep, after you…”

            Cassandra trailed off, and Evelyn felt a lump of emotion catch in her throat. She could almost imagine Cullen leading a charge at the gates of Redcliffe Keep, fury similar to the night he had punched her attacker etched on his face. If she couldn’t find a way back, how many of her new friends, new allies, would be dead? If she couldn’t make her way back to her time, Cullen would always be dead, and she would never know why he had been avoiding her for weeks, never know what she had done wrong. The thought tore at her heart as she tried to wrap her mind around the reality of her current situation. No amount of observing and learning could prepare her fully for being thrown a year into the future, Thedas having fallen apart during the time she was gone, though it had only been a split second for her.

            She was pulled from her reverie by a hoarse voice singing a ditty, counting the number of bottles on an imagined wall. Evelyn approached the nearest cell and saw The Iron Bull sitting propped against the wall, one arm resting on his bent knee, staring straight ahead. He looked up at her presence and took a moment to recognize her.

            “Hey, Boss,” he greeted her, as he had since she had recruited him. It had only been over a week for her…for him it had probably felt like a lifetime.

            “Bull,” she whispered, and she hastily tried the key that had worked on Cassandra’s cell in the lock. He stood, watching her, and eagerly stepped out of the cell as soon as the door swung open.

            “Well, shall we?” the Qunari asked her. She frowned.

            “Don’t you want to know how I’m here?” she asked.

            “Yes, see, the Herald didn’t die – Alexius sent us forward in time,” Dorian cut in, staring at Iron Bull as if he couldn’t understand his simple acceptance of their circumstances.

            “We should get you back, then,” Bull responded, and he stretched briefly before he fell into place behind Evelyn. His eyes were glowing red, just as Cassandra’s did.

            “Herald,” a weak voice called out behind them. Evelyn spun around and peered into the cell behind her. It was filled with red lyrium, and she had first assumed it to be unoccupied. But she saw now that a figure was caught in the middle of the red lyrium, and with a gasp she realized it was growing out of the body of the woman who stood before her.

            “Grand Enchanter?” she exclaimed in surprise. She cautiously approached the cell door, looking on in horror at the sight of Fiona, her body propped up by the crystalline red lyrium growing from within her.

            “But how – I saw you die,” Fiona whispered, her brow furrowing as she stared at Evelyn.

            “No, I didn’t,” Evelyn answered. “Alexius sent me forward in time. I was just in the throne room a few minutes ago, and now I’m here…”

            “He sent you forward in time?” Fiona closed her eyes and gave a shuddering breath. “Then maybe – maybe you can stop all of this, if you can just get back.”

            “Yes, I hope so,” Evelyn agreed. “Grand Enchanter, do you know anything that can help me? Where is Alexius?’

            “Your spymaster…is here. Find her,” Fiona choked slightly, and Evelyn felt her throat tighten. She tried to keep her eyes on the face of the woman before her, but it was difficult. The sight of her body twisted by the corrupted lyrium had already seared itself into her mind no matter how hard Evelyn had tried to avoid seeing it.

            “I will,” she said as the other woman’s eyes closed. “I promise, I’ll make it so this never happened.”

            They continued up the many stairs until they reached a floor above the dungeons that was heavily covered in red lyrium. Dorian and Evelyn strained to keep from touching it as they made their way down the hall. In the distance, Evelyn could hear a man yelling, sounding as if he were interrogating someone. As she progressed down the hall, she heard the lilting voice of her spymaster respond with an insult to the man’s insistent questioning. A sharp crack sounded through the air, followed by a grunting cry from Leliana. Evelyn rushed forward, the sound of Leliana’s wail shaking her to the core.

            She burst through the door, fury coursing through her, and she threw up a static cage around the torturers in the room, and for the first time she relished the screams of pain as her foes were struck repeatedly by the lightning she directed at them. Her adversaries fell easily, and Leliana stared at her, her eyes wide. Evelyn returned the gaze of her spymaster, shocked and speechless at the state of the other woman; Leliana looked like a walking corpse.

            “You’re alive,” Leliana stated, her tone flat. Evelyn nodded wordlessly, not feeling the same urge to explain as she had to the others. Instead she searched for the key, and quickly removed the spymaster’s shackles. “Good.”

            Evelyn quirked a brow, but remained silent. Dorian seemed incredulous beside her. “Don’t you want to know how we came to be here?” he asked, surprised.

            “No, all that matters is that you are,” Leliana replied, her tone harsher than Evelyn had ever heard it. “Let’s move.”

            The spymaster liberated a bow and quiver full of arrows from another of the guards that they came across, and moved behind them in silence, not questioning how they had arrived or what they knew. Instead she told them briefly what Alexius and this Elder One had achieved, what their plans had been, and directed them toward the throne room. Dorian tried to tell her about the time magic and ask her for more details, but Leliana simply told him to shut up.

            Evelyn felt uneasy, and more determined than ever to find a way back to her present. She felt as though she were making her way through a nightmare, unable to fully comprehend the reality she found herself in even as she was assaulted by its horrors again and again. Red lyrium surrounded her, and rifts made frequent, eerie appearances, time shifting around each one as they encountered them. She could tell that Dorian was just as unnerved as she was.

            They continued through the castle, fighting their way through Alexius’ guards and the demons that poured through the rifts as they encountered them. They came across a door that was sealed against them, though Dorian recognized it and the magic that could open it. He encouraged Evelyn to look for a special, sculpted shard of red lyrium, carried by Alexius’ mages, that he believed would open their way. She followed his instructions, searching through the wings with the others until they came across one, and soon they found the massive door swinging forward to admit them.

            Evelyn walked into the throne room and found herself taken aback by the weary look of Alexius as he observed her from the throne on the center dais. She had been told it had only been a year, but Alexius looked as though he had aged two decades. Beside him, an emaciated, terrifying figure that she recognized as Felix stood, staring as though unseeing. “What did you do to him?” she was horrified, and she felt Dorian shift uneasily beside her.

            “I saved him,” Alexius spat, staring at Evelyn as though he saw her but also doubted the reality of her presence.

            “Alexius,” Dorian marveled beside her, but he fell silent, unable to finish his thought as he stared at Felix’s unmoving, glassy gaze.

            “It doesn’t matter,” Alexius mused sorrowfully. “I knew you would return, though I didn’t know when. I knew this would come, and the Elder One has been waiting…”

            Evelyn shuddered as she stared at the Magister, and she tried to harness all of the rage and indignation she felt at this odd reality as it surged within her, her nerves crackling as she began to channel it. “You’ll pay for this,” she snarled, and she threw her barrier around her allies and struck before Alexius even realized she was attacking. She had heard from the others the plans the Elder One had to assassinate the Empress of Orlais and use a demon army to conquer Thedas in the chaos that followed. If Dorian could get Alexius’ amulet and figure out the missing piece of the time magic’s puzzle, she could prevent it all. She determined herself to do so. She thought again of what Cassandra had said, that Cullen died as he tried to assault the forces gathered at Redcliffe Keep. It invigorated her spirit, though she couldn’t fully comprehend why. All she knew was the knowledge of his death was an assault against all that was right; he was such a good man, a representation of all the Inquisition stood for and strove to be. She refused to let this be his fate, or the fate of her other allies.

            Alexius threw a bolt of energy at her, surprised by her attack, but she began an onslaught of her own ferocious, crackling magic as his bolt reflected off of her barrier. The air around her sizzled, ready to strike anything that approached, as she threw bolt after bolt of lightning at the Magister before her. He stumbled beneath her assault, barely deflecting her blows. Suddenly he managed to teleport away from her, tearing open the Veil and creating a rift as he did. Evelyn heard her companions cry out, and she threw everything she had at the demons before she thrust her marked palm at the rift, closing it easily before her. Beyond the green glow of the tear, she saw Alexius’ face falter as she swiftly managed to seal the danger he had conjured before her.

            “You’re finished, Alexius,” she called to him, and she channeled her magic into the electric cage that had saved her several times before. She heard Alexius’s agonized cries as he crumpled beneath the lightning that struck him repeatedly.

            The lightning faded and the Magister no longer moved. Dorian ran forward and began searching for the amulet. An echoing roar sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath their feet.

            “What -” Evelyn began, but Leliana rushed toward the doors of the main hall.

            “He is coming,” the spymaster said. Iron Bull and Cassandra readied their weapons and rushed to join Leliana. “Hurry!” Leliana yelled at Dorian.

            “Ah ha!” the Tevinter cried, pulling the amulet out of Alexius’ pocket. “I should be able to reverse the spell, it’s the same one he had in Minrathous. I just need time.”

            “You have as much time as I have arrows,” Leliana said, readying her bow. Cassandra and Bull had charged out of the main hall’s doors to try to delay the coming force as best they could. Evelyn knew they had gone to their deaths.

            “But -” Dorian tried to protest.

            “You have to make it back,” Leliana cut across him, staring intently at Evelyn as she spoke. “You have to make sure none of this ever happens.”

            Evelyn returned her spymaster’s meaningful look before giving a sharp nod. “Hurry, Dorian,” she turned to the man standing beside her.

            She watched as Dorian fumbled with the amulet, trying small jolts of energy to activate it, turning it this way and that as he did so. The doors to the main hall buckled, something large beyond them was trying to break them open. Leliana raised her bow, an arrow at the ready. Evelyn heard her begin to recite the Chant of Light.

            Dorian gave a triumphant cry just as the doors to the hall burst open, and Evelyn watched as Leliana began to unleash arrows, taking out as many of the approaching demons as she was able. Behind Evelyn a purple vortex opened and began to swirl, and Dorian grabbed her arm. “Get ready!” he told her, trying to draw her attention to the portal.

            But she couldn’t look away from the approaching demons, and just as she felt herself pulled into the swirling purple energy behind her, she saw her spymaster overwhelmed by demons as she died for Evelyn.

            They were spinning, but this time they held onto each other tightly to keep from bouncing against one another. The spinning slowed and Evelyn felt herself falling again, and she rolled along the floor as she landed, rushing to push herself into a standing position with the momentum. Alexius was before her, no longer looking as if he had aged two decades. His mouth was hanging open, staring at her in complete disbelief.

            “You’ll have to do better than that,” she told him, and he fell to his knees before her.


	13. Little Bird

            “You were there, why didn’t you stop her?” Cullen demanded, staring incredulously at Cassandra.

            “A decision needed to be made, and she made it,” the Seeker said firmly. She turned her gaze to the Herald standing beside her. “I may not fully agree with it, but I support it. She acted quickly, without hesitation, just as she needed to.”

            Cullen saw the Herald raise her eyebrows at Cassandra, but she remained silent. He shook his head and gripped the pommel of his sword tighter. He was shocked that the Seeker so easily accepted the decision the Herald had made, offering the mages full freedom when they joined the Inquisition. He was uncomfortable with the prospect of so many mages with them, no constraints…He shook himself, banishing the memories that clawed at him. _Not now_ , he chided.

            “Well, whatever we think about her decision, it is done,” Josephine said, pulling Cullen out of his musings. “If we go back on her word, it makes the Inquisition look at best, incompetent – at worst, malicious.”

            Cullen sighed, realizing the Ambassador made a fair point. They needed to accept the Herald’s decision instead of wasting time debating it.

            “Will the mages be ready to help the Herald close the Breach?” Leliana asked.

            “Solas and Grand Enchanter Fiona are assessing our needs, but yes,” Cassandra answered her. “We should be able to make the attempt as early as tomorrow. That is, if you feel ready for it, Herald.”

            Cullen and the others all turned to look at the Herald, and she looked up to see them staring at her, her eyes wide as if she had been lost in thought and had missed what was said. “I – yes,” she replied, her brow furrowing as she returned to her thoughts. She had been quiet since she had returned, but he noticed her giving Cassandra, Leliana, and himself furtive glances when she thought they weren’t looking. He wondered if she thought they were displeased with her, or angry at her decision. While he disagreed with it, he wasn’t angry. But the look in her eyes as she watched them all made him curious. She looked sad, he realized, and had since her return from Redcliffe, telling them of being trapped in a future so horrible he was having trouble comprehending it.

            They finally decided to meet again in the morning to plan their assault on the Breach and the others left the Chantry, Cullen turning to take his leave as well. A small hand grabbed his forearm, however, and he turned to see the Herald standing beside him, staring at where her hand rested on his armor. He stood watching her, patiently waiting as she continued to gaze at where she held him. The look in her eyes was indecipherable when she finally raised her eyes to his, and he took a breath, trying to collect his scattered thoughts. He hadn’t been this close to her in weeks. Finally she released his arm, but she still held his gaze. “You seem displeased by my decision, Commander,” she said after a moment. “Do you also have a problem with my magic?”

            “What?” he was taken aback, and quickly shook his head as he tried to answer. “No, no, I don’t. It’s just -”

            She continued to stare, her arms folded, waiting for him to finish. He mulled over his words carefully before he spoke. “I wish there had been time to discuss it, is all. My duty to the Inquisition is to see that all of our forces are protected, and that includes the mages,” he assured her. Inwardly he mused at how different his current words sounded, compared to words he had said many years before, to a different mage in a different city. He shook himself mentally to dismiss the memory. “I’m worried about the potential for abominations, it’s likely inevitable. But Cassandra is right – you acted when you needed to, and I’m pleased that you didn’t hesitate.”

            She bit her bottom lip and looked at the floor, nodding slightly. “I thought maybe I had made you angry.”

            “Maker, no,” he took a step toward her. She still looked so sad. “Did I yell at you or something in the future you were trapped in at Redcliffe? Is that why you think I’m angry?” he teased, trying to make her smile. Instead she raised her eyes to his, looking sadder than ever.

            “I – no, you didn’t,” she murmured. He frowned.

            “Herald, are you all right? You’ve been through a lot,” he was watching her carefully, noticing for the first time the circles under her eyes, the way her breath sounded shaky when she exhaled. “You should get some rest tonight, before we approach the Breach tomorrow.”

            She nodded absently, and seemed to understand herself to be excused. He watched from the doors of the Chantry as she left, but instead of walking toward her hut he saw her walk to a figure standing beside a fire. The figure of a man, who was staring up at the Breach until he turned at the sound of her approach. His face was finally illuminated when he turned, smiling broadly at the sight of her, and Cullen recognized that it was Dorian.

            He tried to bury the jealousy he felt as he started the lonely walk to his tent.

 

* * *

 

            “Ah, my Lady Herald, the Savior of the hour,” Dorian greeted her as she approached. “I’m humbled that you would come speak to a lowly and despicable Tevinter mage such as myself.”

            Evelyn gave a small smile, but the effort was draining, even when confronted with his friendly teasing. “Dorian, we were trapped in time together – you can call me Evelyn.”

            “Are you sure I won’t be struck down by the Maker Himself for doing so?” he quipped, and she gave a soft giggle. “How are you, by the way? I can’t help but notice you look a little worse for wear after our little adventure.”

            Evelyn sighed and chewed her thumb, her arms still hugging tightly against her chest as she thought. “I keep thinking about everything we saw – Fiona, the lyrium, Cassandra, Bull, and Leliana when they…”

            Dorian reached out and placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Well, if it makes you feel better, remember that we know how to stop it all from happening, now.”

            She nodded absently but still felt overwhelmed by the images chasing each other through her mind. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and Dorian took a step toward her, pulling her into a one-armed hug as he did so. “It was horrible, I know,” he whispered against her hair. “But we can stop it. This Inquisition of yours seems capable enough, and we got a lucky peek into the ‘Elder One’s’ plans. He wasn’t expecting that, I’m sure.”

            He released her and held her at arm’s length for a moment, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he smiled. “You’re right,” she agreed softly. “I shouldn’t be falling apart like this, I just…” she trailed off, unsure why she was so shaken, unable to pull herself back together.

            “You lived in the Circle most of your life, did you not?” he asked, dropping his hand from her shoulder and tapping his chin thoughtfully as she gave a small nod. “I’ve heard things about Circles here in the South, though I can’t completely fathom what that life must have been like.”

            She waited for him to continue, and he regarded her in thoughtful silence before he did. “Am I right to assume this has all been a bit much for you? I’m sure you rather feel like a bird that got released from its comfortable cage directly into a hurricane.”

            Evelyn laughed softly. “That’s one way to put it, yes.”

            “I see,” he chuckled. “Well, little bird, I must say you seem to be doing a wonderful job learning to fly. You’ll be all right.”

            After asking Dorian questions about Tevinter, trying to distract herself with curiosity, she decided to seek out Adan for help. He looked surprised when he saw her, and she realized he seemed like he was getting ready for bed.

            “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, hesitating just inside the door of the healer’s hut.

            “Not at all, Herald, how can I help you?” he frowned, waiting to see why she was there so late.

            “I was wondering if you had a potion, maybe, – to help me sleep. Without dreams,” she haltingly requested, and she saw recognition register in his eyes as he gave a small nod.

            “I do, yes,” he walked over to his collection of potions, lifting a small vial from their midst. He carefully measured a miniscule amount into an empty vial and sealed it, handing it to her with a small smile. “That should be enough to help you get a good night’s sleep.”

            Evelyn thanked him and left, swiftly crossing the village to her own hut and bolting herself within its walls. She stripped out of her armor and climbed under the covers in just her smallclothes, uncorking the vial once she was settled. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember, she just wanted to sleep – maybe forever, but she’d settle for a few hours. The potion tasted floral, earthy, and she set the empty vial on the table beside her bed. And that was the last she remembered as blackness gently enveloped her.


	14. Crashing Down

            It had been months since she and Cassandra had made their way down this path together, silent in their distrust of each other, the Breach swirling and expanding menacingly above them. Now they walked side by side, flanked by the others, mages and soldiers following them as they led the way back to the center of the Temple ruins. Cassandra occasionally cast sidelong glances at her, and she felt the eyes of the Commander on her as he followed two paces behind her.

            Evelyn felt her stomach twisting itself in knots, and she clenched and unclenched her left hand, remembering the way it had throbbed when she had first made this journey. Then, it had been killing her, and she hadn’t fully cared if it did. Now though she was worried, hoping this time that it wouldn’t kill her; there was still too much to do, too much she had to prevent, too much left unfinished.

            Their silent march finally reached the Temple, and Evelyn and Cassandra made their way down to where the original rift had been, where they had fought the waves of demons together. Solas and Fiona were directing the mages, she could hear them calling out instructions. Evelyn took a deep, steadying breath. Beside her she heard Cassandra do the same. “Are you ready?” the Seeker asked her, and she turned to see the other woman looking at her with trepidation.

            “Let’s do this,” Evelyn replied, taking a few steps forward and staring up at the massive Breach above her. Her hands were shaking, and she again clenched her fist, trying to steady herself. She could hear more instructions yelled behind her, and then the air fell into a deafening, oppressive silence as all eyes fixed on her, waiting with bated breath for her to act.

            Evelyn threw her marked palm into the air, focusing all of her attention on the energy she felt coursing through her, again channeling it in the direction of the sky. Behind her she heard shouts, and suddenly felt overwhelmed by sensation, swirling around her, amplifying the energy she directed at the Breach. She staggered for a second under the weight of it before she dug her heels in, bracing herself against the powerful aid the mages were pouring into her. She closed her eyes, concentrating, once more imagining that she was turning a powerful lock. An image of the future she had witnessed popped into her mind, and she gritted her teeth in determination, her whole body shaking from her powerful exertion.

            And then everything stilled as the last of her energy fled, and she collapsed with a yell, her metal covered knees colliding sharply with the ground. This time, though, she didn’t feel pain, and she didn’t slip into unconsciousness. She felt weary to the bone, and she crouched on all fours, panting and gasping as she tried to catch her breath.

            Footsteps approached her at a run and several sets of knees hit the ground around her. “Are you all right?” she heard the Commander’s worried voice beside her, and she felt several sets of hands on her, trying to push her shoulders back, to look into her face. She raised her bleary gaze and saw Cassandra kneeling before her, her hands clasping Evelyn’s shoulders tightly, anxiety in her furrowed brow. Leliana was crouched to her right, reaching over to grasp Evelyn’s hand, clasping the marked palm in her fingers so she could inspect it. Cullen was to her left, one arm resting on his bent knee, his other large gauntleted hand splayed across her back, and it covered the entire span of her ribs with its size as he tried to feel her breathing.

            “Did it – did it work?” she panted, trying to peer beyond the three who clustered closely around her, her view blocked by their worried faces.

            “It did,” came a voice behind her, and she realized it was Solas who spoke. She closed her eyes in relief, releasing a shaky sigh that quickly gave way to a thankful laugh.

            “We did it,” she repeated again and again, smiling.

 

* * *

 

            It had happened without warning. One moment the air was full of jubilation, dancing and singing echoing throughout the village. The next screams of terror had rent the air as everyone began to try to flee. Soldiers had rushed forward, gathering around the war machines outside of the gates, loading the trebuchets as quickly as they could. But the Commander watched helplessly as too many of them were struck down around him by the attacking Templars, some of whom were twisted, perverted monstrously by red lyrium.

            Cullen had seen the Herald charge past him, throwing up barriers around soldiers manning a trebuchet, twirling wildly as she threw lightning at the approaching forces. Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Varric had torn after her as Blackwall led Dorian, Vivienne, Sera, and Solas in the opposite direction, trying to protect the fleeing villagers.

            The roar that rent the air had sent shivers up his spine, and he looked up to see a dragon swoop down, opening its mouth and unleashing fire upon the trebuchet where the Herald stood fighting. Cullen watched as she was thrown back from the impact of the dragon’s blast, rolling through the snow until she finally came to a halt. He called the retreat, standing at the gates, watching as their forces rushed into the walled village. He was determined to be the last one through, making sure everyone ran inside away from the dragon. The Herald was running toward him, the others following close behind her, and he realized they were the last to need to make it through the gate. He reached out his free hand to her and grabbed her arm, pulling her with him as he called for the gates to close behind them.

            “We need everyone back to the Chantry, it’s the only building that might hold against that – that beast,” Cullen commanded those around them. “At this point, just make them work for it.”

            Cullen maintained his grip on the Herald’s arm as they rushed through the village in the direction of the Chantry, only releasing it to fight off the Templars who had made it over the walls and into their path. As soon as their enemies fell, he grabbed her arm again and pulled her after him, desperate to get her safely to the Chantry. He had to protect her, though he wondered what protection he could actually offer against a dragon.

 

* * *

 

            “What about it, Cullen? Will it work?” she turned away from Roderick to look at him, her eyes piercing as they considered the plan to escape, to get everyone out while she caused an avalanche to swallow the village and the forces that attacked.

            “Possibly, if he shows us the way,” he answered, but he frowned at her. “What of your escape?”

            She lowered her gaze, and he saw her jaw clench with determination. Her resolve cut him to his core. He wanted to tell her not to do it, that saving them wasn’t worth sacrificing herself, but he knew when she met his eyes with her own again that there was nothing he could say to talk her out of it. Standing this close, in the flickering light of the torches, he noticed that there were tiny golden flecks scattered like embers in the sea of translucent blue of her eyes. He had made a vow to protect her, to act as her shield. Even this was going to be a vow that he couldn’t keep, another way that he failed, though he would count this as the worst failure of his life.

            He wanted to tell her no, but instead he said softly, “Perhaps you will surprise us, find a way…” He willed himself to believe she would.

 

* * *

 

            Cullen’s pleading tone made a lump of emotion catch in her throat. She had so easily decided that she would do this, so easily concluded their escape was worth her life. But when she heard the desperation in his voice as he suggested she might still get away, she felt her resolve waver. Evelyn stared up at him, his eyes positively gold in the firelight as the sudden realization hit her like a bolt of her own lightning.

            She cared for him, in a different way and more intensely than she had known. Evelyn felt so stupid. She knew now how naïve she had been as she thought of how often she sought out his counsel, sought him out for conversation, thinking she only wanted to understand him as the Commander of the Inquisition and her ally. She remembered the way she had been so affected by his death in the alternate future, the way she had had to grab a hold of his arm upon her return, assuring herself that he was real and alive in front of her. The knowledge came upon her painfully, just as she resolved herself to give up everything to save the Inquisition.

            She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. She gave him a solemn jerk of her head and turned away from him. If she lingered, if she looked into his warm eyes any longer, she wouldn’t be able to leave. He began to give instructions to several around her, sending soldiers with her, ordering Iron Bull to go, Dorian and Varric chiming in that they would as well. “Herald, if we are to have a chance – if you are to have a chance – let that thing hear you,” he implored her, and they held each other’s gaze for a fraction of a second before he turned to follow the others led by Chancellor Roderick.


	15. A Choice Few Get to Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little repetitious of canon, sorry. Important for Evelyn's character development, though. <3

            “Go! Now – run!” Evelyn ordered the others, and she watched as they began their retreat. She ran to the trebuchet, intending to release it before the dragon could open its mouth, but the dragon landed and she couldn’t reach the release in time. The ground buckled and shook beneath her and she lost her footing, stumbling. Behind her she heard Iron Bull call out to her, and she turned to see that the others had turned back around when they realized she wasn’t with them. “Get out of here!” she screamed at them. “Now - that’s an order!”

            Reluctantly the three of them turned to run, and she tried to get to her feet. Her staff was lying away from her, she needed to reach it…

            But the dragon unfurled its wings and a tall, hideously deformed figure stepped out from the folds, walking ominously toward her. The dragon circled around and blocked her retreat, snarling as it did so.

            “Enough,” the figure called out, and Evelyn felt a shiver run down her spine in recognition. The voice from the Temple, the one that had echoed so horribly around them. The Elder One.

            “Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more,” the Elder One said. Evelyn took a step forward as he approached. She steeled herself.

            “Whatever you are, I am not afraid,” she said, and she stood as straight as she could, defiant. She needed to keep him distracted. She hadn’t seen the signal yet, didn’t know if everyone had gotten to safety…

            “Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies,” the Elder said. “Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder one, the will that is Corypheus.”

            She frowned, still standing tall, trying to keep herself steady as she faced him.

            “You will kneel,” he commanded, pointing.

            “No,” she replied resolutely. “I will not.”

            “You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not,” he seemed to sneer. He raised his hand, and she saw that he was clutching an orb. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.”

            The orb glowed red and he lashed out with his other arm, and she felt pain erupt in her left palm, the green mark exploding in sensation and glowing once more as it did. She cried out in surprise, grasping her wrist with her other hand.

            “It is your fault, ‘Herald,’” he told her. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” He twisted his hand, channeling red energy at her. The mark upon her flesh burned more intensely and she stumbled.

            “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens,” he continued, and she tried to focus on his words. The pain was nearly unbearable. He gave one last jerk of his hand and she felt her mark throb more forcefully, the agony sending her to her knees, but she saw the Elder one lower his hand, glaring at her. “And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall!” he roared.

            “What is this thing meant to do?” she cried, blinking rapidly against the tears that welled in her eyes from the pain, still trying to distract him until she knew everyone was safe.

            “It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He took a few long strides and closed the distance between them, stooping and pulling her up roughly by her left arm. She felt herself dangling, pulled off the ground as he raised her before him to look into her face. He was gigantic before her, and she tried to keep her face firm, unwilling to let him see the pain and fear behind her eyes.

            “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more,” the Elder One told her, staring intently at her face, the sneer still present on his lips. “I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was empty.”

            Evelyn raised her eyebrows, surprise coursing through her. But it was brief, for the Elder One flung her from him and she crashed against the trebuchet, her body erupting in agony as she collided against the wood. She slid down it and collapsed on her knees, each breath she took more painful than the last.

            “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling,” Corypheus told her. Evelyn raised her gaze, looking around herself. She was right beside the release for the trebuchet. Had she missed the signal? She looked beyond Corypheus, trying to make out the tree line. She had to be certain…She heard the Elder One continue his declarations, his threats, and just then she saw the signal, illuminating the sky beyond, and she knew that everyone had reached safety. _Cullen did it_.

            Evelyn raised herself to her feet, determined to meet her end standing; she owed herself that much. She gave the Elder One a hateful smirk. “You expect me to fight, but that’s not why I kept you talking,” she saw him halt, watching her. “Enjoy your victory, here’s your prize!” she cried, and she pulled the release.

            Surprise was evident on the Elder One’s face as he watched the progress of the boulder as it soared overhead. A great rumbling began after it made contact, and Evelyn smiled to herself as she saw the avalanche begin exactly where she had hoped it would. With a snarl Corypheus turned to face her, but she seized the opportunity to flee.

            Cullen had said they had the chance to decide how they died, and she chose the avalanche over granting the Elder One the satisfaction of striking her down. She ran as fast as she could and leapt off the trebuchet, continuing to the short cliffs ahead of her. Behind her she heard the dragon roar, but she didn’t turn back. The rumbling of the avalanche was louder, sounding close behind her, and she launched herself off the rocks as the blast of the avalanche caught her, flinging her more forcefully off the edge than she’d intended. She came crashing down, falling further than she had anticipated she would. She finally hit the ground with a painful thud, and darkness consumed her.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn was painfully aware that she was cold, and she shivered as she opened her eyes to look around herself. The shivering made her entire body ache, and her breaths caused her agony. She clasped an arm against her ribs, giving a cry of pain as she came into full awareness. Some of her ribs were certainly broken, as well as her left wrist from how she had been flung from the Elder One. She struggled to stand, using only her right hand to push herself to her feet.

            It appeared she was in a tunnel, but she wasn’t quite sure how she had come to be in a tunnel. She had thought when she flung herself off the rocks that she would crash into the frozen lake, and be covered by the avalanche. Instead, she was still alive, and she began to take careful steps forward, determined to find a way out. Slowly she made her progress through the tunnels, and finally she could tell the way before her was becoming lighter. Ahead of her she saw an exit, snow blowing past it in the howling wind.

            Evelyn made her way out of the tunnels and held her right arm up to her forehead, trying to take in her surroundings through the heavy flurries of snow blowing around her. She shivered more intensely, the air biting through holes and tears in her armor, whipping her loose strands of hair around her face. She began making her way up a hill, struggling and falling in the knee deep snow. As she progressed she realized she could see dents in the snow, and upon closer examination she realized it was the mostly filled holes of footsteps in the snow, hundreds of them, leading their way up the path. With a soft, happy cry, she began the struggle to follow their progress, her own incredibly slow.

            She didn’t know how long she walked, shivering uncontrollably, no longer able to feel her fingers or her feet. She could no longer feel the throbbing of her broken wrist, and her lungs seared from the cold air but not her broken ribs, all sensation in her body numbed. Her teeth chattered, and she felt her eyes closing. She was so tired, she wanted to rest…

            She snapped her head up and picked herself up from where she had fallen in the snow once more. Taking another step felt impossible, and she choked back a sob. Desperately she lifted her right hand before her, and she snapped her red, frozen thumb against her other fingers as though they were flint and she was trying to light a fire. She concentrated with all her might, and for a brief moment the faintest flame burst into life at the tip of her fingers, but it quickly went out. She gave a dry sob as she tried again. Nothing.

            She bit her lip and gave it up; fire magic wasn’t her strong suit even on a good day. Evelyn forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, realizing that if she stopped now she would maybe never be able to continue. She made her slow progress up the hill, her eyes focused on the footsteps she followed, determined to reach them…to reach him…


	16. Vigil

            “Why did you leave her?” he roared again, desperation and frustration making him lash out at those before him. The dwarf flinched.

            “We thought she was right behind us, running, and then…” Varric gestured sadly, despair in his eyes.

            “There was no way to get back to her,” the Iron Bull answered. He shook his head. “She ordered us to leave.”

            Dorian stood back, his arms crossed, his eyes hollow. Cullen found himself irrationally hating the man.

            “Commander, please, we can’t stay here,” Josephine implored him.

            “Yes, the Elder One’s forces may still be near here,” Cassandra agreed. “We’re exposed, we need to get these people away, find safety.”

            Cullen shook his head, refusing to give up. “No, we owe it to her, we have to find her. She has to still be out there.”

            “Cullen…” Leliana pleaded gently, her voice heavy with emotion. “There’s no way -”

            “Yes, there is,” he interrupted, turning away and pounding his fist against the tree he stood near. He could feel the others staring at him, their eyes boring into the back of his head. He glanced at them over his shoulder. “One more night, just…just tonight. Then we’ll move on.”

            They acquiesced, and all turned to head back to the makeshift encampment, leaving Cullen where he stood. He took up his patrol again, walking from the camp and up the hill, back the way they had come, so that he could more easily look over their surroundings and the path behind them. He didn’t dare think about the possibility that she hadn’t made it. He found the thought too painful to entertain. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Cassandra walking toward him, joining him silently to help him keep watch.

            They continued up the hill, and just as they did he thought he saw faint movement up ahead. “Is that -” Cassandra said beside him, stopping him with her arm. He pushed past her and ran forward, his heart leaping into his throat. It looked like…

            “It’s her!” he cried, and behind him he heard Cassandra shout a grateful prayer.

            Evelyn had collapsed in the snow, on her knees, her left arm hanging awkwardly at her side. Cullen ran forward and threw himself on his knees before her, pulling her close to him. Behind him he heard Cassandra imploring him to be quick, calling down into the valley for others, a group of soldiers already running toward them. Cullen held Evelyn’s petite frame against him for a moment longer, assuring himself that she was really there as he brushed the snow covered hair off her face. She raised her gaze, her eyes searching his face in confusion as the corners of her lips twitched. She lifted her right hand to his cheek, her icy fingers resting against his skin, and she stroked the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

            “Cullen,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her teeth chattering intensely. “Have to…have to surprise him…have to get back to Cullen…”

            Her eyelids fluttered as she passed out, her head collapsing back against the arm that held her. He crouched and swung her into his arms, lifting her from the snow and turning to carry her to the camp as quickly and carefully as he could. He glanced down at her in his arms, this angle incredibly familiar to him. He was worried about the bluish purple tint to her lips, the ragged way her breath sounded, the way her brow furrowed as she was jostled by the movement of his steps. She was in pain, he could tell, and he quickened his pace.

            The bustling in the camp that had begun at Cassandra’s cries came to a halt as Cullen approached carrying the Herald. As they had when he had carried her from the Temple after her first assault on the Breach, the onlookers threw themselves to their knees in the snow, crying and shouting prayers to the Maker. Cassandra raced ahead of him once more, leading him to the healer’s tent where Adan and some other mages waited, Mother Gisele hurrying inside with blankets.

            Cullen had a feeling of déjà vu when he entered the tent and put his knee on the side of the cot, laying his burden softly upon it. She groaned and winced, her right hand clutching the folds of his mantle as he tried to pull away from her. His eyebrows raised in wonder as he covered her fingers with his, gently prying her grip loose. She turned her fingers in his, releasing the cloth but instead trying to catch a better hold of his hand. He squeezed her fingers gently and laid her hand beside her on the cot, and her frown deepened when he moved away from her.

            Mother Gisele and the others were gently pulling her snow and ice stiffened armor from her, assessing her injuries as they did so. Besides the start of frostbite, it became clear she had several broken bones. They discovered large purple and black bruises covering her normally creamy white skin as they stripped her to her smallclothes. Decorum fled, and Cullen found himself unable to tear his eyes from the damage on her naked flesh, the proof of what she had once more survived. He watched the healers applying poultices, the green glow of magic lighting up the tent as they mended her broken ribs, and her apparently broken left arm and wrist. They were moving quickly, trying their best to get their healing done so that they could cover her with the blankets waiting beside the cot. Vivienne stood beside the Herald, cupping her hands around a flame she had conjured, holding it close in an attempt to melt the snow and dry her hair as the healers tended her.

            Cullen stood with Cassandra and Leliana, watching the progress of the healers in silence. When they finally began to pull the blankets over her, tucking several close to her, the Commander stepped forward. “I’ll sit with her. It’s late, everyone get some rest.”

            “Do not trouble yourself, Commander, I can stay,” Mother Gisele said, but Cullen shook his head.

            “It is no trouble,” Cullen said firmly, “I insist.”

            The others slowly filed out of the tent, Cassandra and Leliana hesitating momentarily, watching him. Vivienne had lit a fire in a stone basin and left it beside the Herald’s cot, and Cullen pulled a chair next to it and took his seat. “Commander, we need to plan our next move,” Leliana said.

            “Later,” he murmured with calm finality, propping his elbows on his legs, his forehead resting against his clasped hands. He heard Cassandra and Leliana finally leave the tent.

            During his time as a Templar, he had kept several vigils, desperately attempting to stay awake while he watched the wax of the candles lighting the room drip, marking the slow progress of the many hours. While he had been dedicated to his path as a Templar, pushing himself in his studies, vigils had always been a struggle for him. Yet now, the devout vigil he kept felt like the easiest task he had ever undertaken.

            He sat for over an hour, his head resting against his clasped hands, his lips moving in silent prayer as he clenched his eyes shut. He thanked the Maker, Andraste, and anyone else who might be listening to his prayers that she had been returned to him. He didn’t chide himself for his selfishness, allowing his prayers to focus on her return to him and not just the Inquisition. Cullen knew he could never act on his desire, knew that he wasn’t deserving of even the smallest bit of her attention, but he allowed himself to be grateful for her life. It made him want to be better, made him want to stay firm on his path to redemption by working to protect her, to protect the Inquisition. He thanked the Maker again and again, unsure of what deed he had committed to get into the Maker’s good graces and receive the answer to his prayers by having her delivered back into his arms. He made a vow that he would endeavor to be worthy of the Maker’s favor. Three times now, he had been the one to carry her to safety, and he began to understand that this was his purpose. He was unworthy of her affection, but he knew now that it was his sacred duty to act as her shield and her protector, her support when she was weak. She carried the weight of Thedas on her shoulders, and he could carry her in turn when she wavered and struggled under its weight. He felt that this was his way to repent, to continue working to redeem himself for the actions of his past. Three times had to be a sign from the Maker himself, and he prayed with desperation that he would continue to be there when she needed him.

            Cullen raised his gaze and rested his lips against his clasped hands, watching the Herald as she slept. He memorized the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her dark eyelashes looked against her pale cheeks as he continued praying for her well being. Occasionally she murmured incoherently, her lips parting and flexing, trying to form words. Just as soon as she began she would fall silent again, and still Cullen sat watching her. Her brow furrowed, her head shifting slightly, as though she were in renewed pain or remembering something unpleasant. He reached his hand out to her, laying his gloved hand on her forehead, stroking her brow lightly with his thumb until her tension eased, and then he removed his hand, returning to his former vigilant pose.

            As he watched her, reaching out occasionally to smooth away any frown that crossed her face, he remembered her words when she had seen him. “ _Cullen, have to surprise him, have to make it back to Cullen…_ ” He stared at her, wondering at her words, but he tried to quash the hope he felt growing in the recesses of his mind. She had been delirious and close to death, most likely unaware of anything going on around her. She hadn’t meant anything by it. But the memory of her thumb at the corner of his lips remained, and his skin still tingled from the contact as though she had marked him.

            Several times throughout the night Adan came in to check on her, and Cullen would wordlessly raise his gaze to the healer, silently asking how she was. Adan would give a nod, mutter that she was recovering, felt warmer, and then would leave the tent. A few times he looked back at the Commander with a frown, try to suggest that he take over, but Cullen would shake his head firmly. “It is no trouble,” he said again, and returned to his devoted vigil as she slept.

            When Mother Gisele entered the tent with the rising sun, Cullen’s eyes were still fixed on the Herald’s face, and he was reluctant to leave at the Revered Mother’s gentle but firm insistence that she take over. She ushered him out of the tent, encouraging him to seek out his own cot, and his dutiful tending was ended.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn walked slowly, still stiff from her many healing injuries. She wished they had been able to save the few horses they had had at Haven. They had been walking through the snow for two days now, and she was weak. She was doing her best to hide it, pretending she only struggled to move forward because of the depth of the snow, but she frequently had to stop to take a breath. Whenever she did this, the Commander would stop his walking as well and approach her, standing in silence beside her until she continued. Evelyn wondered at his actions, his patience as he watched her feign that she was merely double-checking their route. He almost looked like he was waiting expectantly for her to ask him for help. But her sudden realization in Haven’s Chantry about her own feelings made her keep her eyes pointed in the opposite direction, unable to say anything as he stood watch beside her.

            At the end of their second day spent walking, Evelyn finally saw that which they sought in the distance. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight; the keep that Solas had described was even larger than she had imagined, frozen and majestic, surrounded by an icy lake and snow capped mountins. She stopped walking, Cullen ever present beside her, and a smile spread across her face as she finally turned to speak to the Commander. “Skyhold…We did it,” she breathed.

            He turned his gaze to her, his eyes full of wonder. “You did, Herald,” he said, his scar quirking up with a grin.


	17. Loud

_Inquisitor_.

            It still felt odd to hear, but she found as she walked through the courtyard of Skyhold that everyone she passed seemed eager to greet her with the new title. She looked up at the vast battlements surrounding her, still enchanted with the keep. It was run down, abandoned for several ages, but it was solid and defensible. As she scanned the battlements, she saw Varric waving to her from the ramparts. He gestured for her to join him, and she realized someone was standing behind him, facing away from her.

            Evelyn made her way slowly up the stairs to Varric, still recovering her strength from Haven and their journey. When she reached the dwarf, she noticed that he was shifting uneasily, looking guilty.

            “The events at Haven jogged my memory a little,” he began. “I uh – reached out to a friend, someone who has fought Corypheus before and may be able to help.”

            Evelyn quirked a brow at him, and he gestured to the person standing beside him, who stood looking out at the mountains.

            “Sparkles, er – Inquisitor, I’d like you to meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall,” he said.

            A small gasp escaped her as she turned to look at the back of the woman who chuckled at Varric’s formal introduction. “You know, I don’t really call myself that anymore,” she told him. Her voice was softer than Evelyn had expected. She watched as the Champion of Kirkwall finally faced her, and was surprised by what she saw. Hawke was tanned, her skin golden and sun-kissed, and her hair, pulled loosely into a bun, was a honey gold that nearly blended into the rest of her. The eyes that looked Evelyn over as though she was sizing her up were hazel, reflecting the sunlight and making Evelyn feel that looking at Hawke was like looking straight into the sun. She was taken aback; in all of Varric’s tales of the Champion, he hadn’t mentioned how beautiful she was. Evelyn had expected someone tougher and meaner looking based on the stories, rather than this remarkably feminine woman standing before her.

            “Inquisitor, is it?” Hawke asked, and Evelyn nodded. “You’re right Varric, she is quite young.”

            Evelyn looked at Varric with her eyebrow raised and the dwarf gave a shrug. “It’s true, Sparkles, you’re practically a baby.” Evelyn folded her arms defensively, feeling self-conscious under Hawke’s calculating gaze.

            “Varric said you know about Corypheus?” Evelyn asked, trying to change the subject and sound confident as she did so.

            “Well, yes, you see – I killed him,” Hawke said.

            “You what?”

            “Maybe you should start at the beginning, Hawke,” Varric sighed

 

 

 

           Evelyn wandered through the courtyard again, mulling over everything Hawke had told her. The other woman had been at a loss for how Corypheus had survived their fight, and she swore to Evelyn that she would help her defeat him. She felt responsible, Evelyn could tell. They had planned to meet in Crestwood, to seek out a Grey Warden Hawke was certain could help them. Hawke had then donned her cloak and picked up her staff to slip quietly away, promising to send word soon. Varric had muttered about how he hoped Cassandra didn’t see her, and Evelyn wondered if that were possible.

            “ _Now_ , soldier,” she heard a deep voice command from somewhere to her left, and she turned to see Cullen standing at a barrel he had converted into a makeshift desk. The scout he addressed gave a hurried salute and ran off to follow the orders the Commander had just barked at him. Cullen turned, intending to look back at the reports before him, but he caught Evelyn’s gaze and gave her a nod in greeting.

            She felt compelled, and her feet seemed to carry her to him of their own accord. “Do you ever stop working?” she asked when she stood before him, trying to act like she had intended to check on Skyhold’s progress instead of just be near him.

            Cullen sighed. “Haven was never a good situation, we were far too exposed, we had no way to prepare for what we faced. But this,” he looked around them. “If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw – and I wouldn’t want to. We must be ready.”

            He flipped through some of the reports before him, one hand resting on his sword as he thought. She watched the flexing in his cheek as he read something and she frowned. She felt a sudden vague recollection of the feeling of his cheek beneath her fingers, but she shook herself slightly. She chalked it up to a dream.

            “Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations are established. We should have everything on course within the week,” he continued as he read over a report. He looked up at her, a determined look in his eyes. “We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

            She sighed a little at the title and folded her arms. “Yes…Inquisitor,” she mused. “It sounds a little odd to hear, don’t you think?”

            “Not at all,” he smiled.

            “Is that the official response?” she quirked a brow at him.

            He chuckled but continued to give her that same smile. “I suppose it is, but it’s the truth.”

            Evelyn felt her insides squirm. “I hope I can live up to all of the expectations,” she confided. He frowned a little as he listened.

            “I’m certain you will. You’ve already proven yourself to be a competent leader, which is exactly what we needed,” he assured her. She felt a warm surprise flow through her, her stomach tying into knots for a completely different reason now.

            “How many did we lose?” she asked, trying to keep the heat from her cheeks.

            He sighed. “Not as many as it could have been. Most of our people made it safely out of Haven, and they have you to thank for that.”

            She raised her eyes to his, the heat continuing to rise in her cheeks at the continual sound of pride in his voice. “It was close. I’m relieved that you – that so many, of our people made it out.” Evelyn mentally cringed at her slip, hoping he hadn’t heard her. By the way he was looking at her, she could tell that he had. She gave a small nod and decided fleeing was the best option. She turned but she felt his hand grip her upper arm, pulling her back to face him, pulling her closer until she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

            “You could have died -” his voice broke. She wished he would stop looking at her with such intensity. Then again, she wished he wouldn’t. “I refuse to let it happen again. You have my word. I will not let anything happen to you.”

            Evelyn’s lips parted in her surprise, and she found herself speechless as she absorbed his words. “Cullen, I -”

            But he suddenly seemed to remember himself and he pulled away, releasing her arm. “We’ll be better prepared, next time,” he muttered, and he began to pore over the reports in front of him, not raising his gaze as she slowly turned and walked away, thinking about the look in his eyes when he made his declaration.

 

* * *

 

            Cullen didn’t notice that night had fallen until he found himself reaching for the torch nearby to pull it closer to the reports he was reading. He was exhausted, his temples aching and his hands shaking, but he pushed himself to keep working. The image of the bruised and broken body of the Herald was too fresh in his mind, and he couldn’t let himself rest until he was sure that he had made Skyhold more secure than Haven had been.

            The courtyard was still bustling, even at this late hour. Healers were working in makeshift tents nearby, soldiers walking along the patrols that he had already established. He was determined to stay watchful for the Elder One’s next attack, certain that it was coming. The image of Haven disappearing beneath an avalanche as he watched from a distance, helpless, flashed into his mind. He shook himself and tried to refocus his eyes on the parchment he held. His attempt at focus was sabotaged by his own mind again when he remembered the conversation he had had with the Herald earlier that day. He remembered her stuttering, when she had said she was glad he had made it, a blush spreading across her cheeks. The scolding voice that had taken up residence in his head was trying to discourage the hopeful way he interpreted her words. She just meant she was happy the Inquisition still had its Commander, that was all…

            “She knew what she was saying,” a voice said near him, and Cullen turned to see that odd boy from the Haven gates, Cole, sitting near him on the ground.

            “Sorry?” Cullen asked, thoroughly confused and caught off guard.

            “She said those words for hours,” Cole continued. “‘Have to make it, have to surprise Cullen. Can’t stop walking, won’t be able to continue if I stop. So cold – my magic has failed me, I can’t make a simple flame. Sobbing, desperate. The air is too cold, each breath like a gash, cutting through me, and it’s agony. So tired. I just want to sleep. No, no rest. Can’t stop, must make it to Cullen, have to surprise him, have to make it back like he said I would. He believed in me, said I would surprise him. I have to. He’s so warm, not like the others, the cold ones who always watched me. So stupid, so naïve. I didn’t know. Cullen, Cullen…’”

            “How do you know she said that?” Cullen asked, entranced by the boy’s rapid monotone repetition of Evelyn’s words, as though the boy were channeling her very thoughts to Cullen.

            “She repeated the words the whole time she walked. She was so loud,” Cole droned on. “‘I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I was so stupid…Have to make it back to him.’”

            “What didn’t she know?” Cullen said quietly. Cole was silent for a moment.

            “You were loud too,” Cole finally answered. “‘Maker, forgive me. I am not worthy, not after what I’ve done. I am a broken man who doesn’t deserve your favor. But thank you, thank you for answering my prayers. I don’t know what I did to earn this. I don’t know why you would entrust me with this sacred duty. I’ll protect her, I swear. I’ll do everything I can. I’ll always be there to carry her when she needs to be carried. I’ll give my life for her, even though I don’t deserve to look at her. Maker’s breath - Evelyn, so beautiful before me, so fragile. She’s frowning, groaning – she’s in pain. It’s all right, Evelyn, I’m here. Maker please, take away her pain – let me feel it instead. I would do anything for her, to save her so she can save everyone. I would suffer Uldred’s torture again-”

            “Stop,” Cullen ordered suddenly, and Cole fell silent. The Commander was shaking, disbelief spreading through him as he clenched his eyes against the painful throbbing in his head. How had he known? He was repeating Cullen’s prayers to him word for word, the silent, desperate vigil he had kept all night at her side as she slept. Cole looked up, his eyes finally visible beneath the wide brim of his hat.

            “She would understand. She wants to understand. She sees it in your eyes, she wonders at the way your hands shake on the pommel of your sword. She always watches, she’s always watched her whole life. Bron always ran ahead, braver than she was, but she stood back, she watched - she wanted to understand everything. She wants to understand you, too. She mentioned the Circle, asked about the Order, and saw your eyes change,” Cole was staring at him intently.

            “She would never understand,” Cullen said, trying to ignore the thoughts that crept into his mind, the hope he wouldn’t allow to take root within him. “She would hate me, as she should.”


	18. Sparkles and Curly

            Evelyn hadn’t meant to wander into the top level of the tavern. She was trying to find her way to the infirmary that was being built, intending to check its progress. Skyhold was so large though, and she kept getting lost. It didn’t help that she was distracted, her mind continuing to wander over everything that had happened over the last week, wondering about what she should do next while she waited to hear from Hawke. She was going to turn around, maybe she’d ask Cassandra for directions, but she heard a crash and shouts from below her. Listening intently, she realized it was Cassandra’s voice she was hearing. She headed toward it.

            “You knew! The whole time, you knew where Hawke was,” the Seeker roared, and Evelyn came down the stairs to see Cassandra advancing on Varric, who quickly circled around a table, keeping it between them. A chair was overturned; it must have been knocked over in their scuffle, explaining the crash Evelyn had heard.

            “You’re damn right I knew!” he yelled back.

            “We needed someone to lead the Inquisition – Brigid Cousland is the Queen, but she has disappeared, and Hawke had as well. But we needed her, needed her to lead, and you lied to us!”

            “You kidnapped me!” Varric accused. “You kidnapped and interrogated me! Of course I didn’t tell you, I wasn’t going to let you hurt Hawke.”

            “I told you, I told you why we needed her,” Cassandra was still advancing, and Varric backed into the railing behind him. “But you -”

            “Enough!” Evelyn ran forward, yelling and trying to pull Cassandra’s hand from where it gripped Varric’s open shirt.

            “Inquisitor, he -” the Seeker began, but Evelyn interrupted her loudly.

            “I said enough!”

            Cassandra and Varric both fell silent, breathing heavily. Evelyn released Cassandra’s wrist.

            “We needed someone, we were desperate…If you had told us where she was, we could have explained. Hawke could have been at the Conclave – maybe she could have stopped this, maybe…”

            “Cassandra, what’s done is done,” Evelyn cut in. “This isn’t helping anybody.”

            “Exactly,” Varric said smugly, before Evelyn shot him a withering glare.

            “No more secrets, Varric,” she snapped. He threw his arms up with a sigh.

            “All right, all right, Inquisitor, no more secrets.”

            Cassandra turned away and rested her hands on the railing, bowing her head in her frustration. Varric walked away and headed for the stairs. He turned back and glared at Cassandra’s back. “You know what I think? I think if Hawke had been at the Conclave, she’d be dead too. You people have done enough to her.” And with that he departed.

            Evelyn turned to look at Cassandra, watching the Seeker’s shoulders heave as she took deep breaths.

            “I keep wondering what might have been, what I could have done differently, how I could have prevented all this,” the Seeker finally confessed. “But he’s right. Even if we had found Hawke, she might have died with the Divine. Or she may not have even agreed to help us at all – she’s an apostate, and she supported the mages in Kirkwall.”

            Cassandra sighed and turned to face Evelyn. Not for the first time, Evelyn saw the way the Seeker’s duties weighed heavily on her mind. “Do you really think things would have been better if you had found Hawke?” she asked.

            “I’m not sure. If we had, who knows what would have happened. If we had, I suppose the Maker wouldn’t have seen fit to send you,” Cassandra was watching her, her brows furrowed. “Tell me, truly, Evelyn…Were you sent by Andraste?”

            Evelyn gave a hopeless shrug. “I don’t know, Cassandra. I still can’t remember what happened. I…” she trailed off, unsure of how to express her own doubts. So much was expected of her, as the Herald, as the Inquisitor. She saw the way everyone looked at her in terrified, worshipful awe as she passed through the halls and grounds of Skyhold. It was beginning to wear on her, to keep her up tossing and turning all night, fear gripping her heart as she worried she would fail and bring all of Thedas crashing down with her.

            Cassandra seemed to realize Evelyn was struggling, because she stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I do. And you are doing well, by the way,” she said softly. Evelyn gave a grateful smile. “I need to stop worrying about what might have been. I’m glad the Maker decided to send you to us; you’ve been exactly what we’ve needed.”

 

 

            "Ah, little bird!" Dorian called to her, waving an arm from where he sat beside Iron Bull at a table. Evelyn smiled a little and pushed her way from the stairs she had come down to their table through the throng of off duty soldiers. She managed to reach them and fell onto the bench across from them.

            “Hey, Boss,” Bull greeted her, and he reached over to fill an empty cup from the bottle that sat in the middle of the table. He passed it to her and she took it gratefully, taking a long gulp before she looked up at the two sitting across from her.

            “Is everything all right, my dear?” Dorian asked her, frowning as he watched her take another appreciative drink of the strong liquor.

            “I’d say it isn’t,” Bull chimed in, looking sideways at Dorian. Evelyn chuckled lightly, setting her cup down and wiping her lips with her fingertips.

            “It’s just…a lot,” she muttered.

            “Yes, remember when I said you got thrown into a hurricane? Turns out it was actually a hurricane as well as a bloody Archdemon commanded by an Ancient Darkspawn who – crazy enough – claims to be one of the magisters who breached the Golden City!” Dorian ranted, gesturing wildly. He seemed to be several cups into the bottle. “And you must have thought it was going to be easy.”

            “She’ll be fine,” the Qunari said with a casual wave of his hand. “The Boss is tough. She’s come back from the dead how many times now?”

            “I didn’t come back from the dead,” Evelyn protested. Dorian reached across the table and took her hand.

            “But that’s how it appears to everyone,” he told her. He squeezed her hand gently. “And that last one was a close call – you may as well have come back from the dead.”

            Evelyn stared into her nearly empty cup. She drained it before she held it out to Iron Bull. He nodded at her and filled it once more. Dorian still held her hand, trying to reassure her, and she casually laced her fingers with his to seek his comforting warmth. Krem and the other members of the Bull’s Chargers appeared beside their table, holding fresh tanks of ale and talking loudly. A few of them stuttered to a halt when they saw her, but Iron Bull shot them a meaningful glare. “She’s not the Boss, tonight,” he told them. “She’s one of us, and she needs another drink.” They all cheered, and Krem ran off to get a tankard of ale for her while a few hands clapped her on the back, welcoming her to their little party.

            She felt just a touch more like a normal person, at least for the moment.

 

* * *

 

             The Commander didn’t drink much, and he certainly didn’t make a habit of frequenting the tavern. They had made sure it was quickly established to give the soldiers a place to relax, but he hadn’t visited it yet. He had made sure his recruits understood the expectations he had for their off duty behavior, and then he avoided the tavern so that they could relax without their Commander breathing down their necks. They deserved their time off. But tonight he found himself in the tavern, searching the crowd. A report had shown up on his desk about some locals who wanted to serve as mercenaries, wanting to assist however they could. The Inquisitor had even helped them get outfitted with gear. Leliana’s report had suggested meeting them at the tavern to discuss how they might best help the Inquisition.

            And so he was scanning the crowd, chafing under the nervous stares he was receiving from the soldiers, who all appeared worried he was about to start yelling at them. He thought about giving up, thought about arranging for the hopeful mercenaries to meet him tomorrow away from the tavern. The idea of unwinding and having a pint had initially appealed to him, but he felt incredibly out of place. Then his eyes fell on her, and his insides twisted as a multitude of emotions washed over him.

            Evelyn was sitting at a crowded table, and he realized she was surrounded by the Bull’s Chargers as well as a few of her own frequent companions, including her hulking bodyguard and the elf, Sera. She was smiling, laughing at something someone said, carefree and relaxed. She held a tankard of ale in one hand, taking a sip, her eyes smiling as she looked over the rim at the person sitting across from her. His gut lurched when he saw her other hand resting on the table, her fingers interlaced with someone else’s; Dorian, who was the one sitting across from her, the recipient of her happy regard.

            The Commander felt his breath halt and his stomach knot as he watched Dorian lightly stroking her delicate hand with his thumb, turning her fingers over between his own, playfully squeezing and wiggling his fingers against hers. Evelyn didn’t pull away from the hand or the fingers caressing her. Instead she giggled and returned the gentle, intimate gestures as she spoke cheerfully to Krem sitting beside her. Cullen felt his mouth go dry as he felt jealousy wash over him, feeling ashamed as he wished desperately that it was his hand she held, him who she smiled at so freely.

            “Eh, Curly!” a deep voice cried, and he turned toward the bar despite himself, despite how he hated that nickname, despite how he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from her smiling at someone else. Varric was leaning against the bar, waving a tankard of ale in greeting. “Nice to see you’ve finally decided to take up drinking like a normal human.”

            He didn’t know why he approached the dwarf, why he felt compelled to slump onto the bar stool beside him. Cullen gestured for an ale from the barkeep, and Varric took his place on the stool next to him. As soon as the tankard was in front of the Commander, he picked it up and took a long gulp, draining half of it in one go.

            “Maybe you should slow down, Curly,” Varric quipped from his right. “You’re not used to relaxing. You might want to try easing into it.”

            Cullen lowered the tankard and shook his head, biting back a harsh retort. He was trying not to turn around to look at where she sat, caressed by another man, and it was taking all of his effort.

            “Bad day?” Varric asked. When Cullen ignored him still, he continued on as though it didn’t matter, muttering, “You and me both.”

            The Commander closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, fighting the urge to look back and stare. The look she had been giving Dorian was emblazoned on his brain. He sighed and took another drink.

            “So, what’s the issue? Someone forget how to use their shield again? Or maybe had their uniform out of regulation?” Varric goaded him.

            Cullen looked at the dwarf, and when he did he could see past the dwarf’s shoulder to the table where she sat, her hand still on the wood, still held by those larger, tanned fingers. Varric turned and looked at what had caught Cullen’s eye and turned back, heaving his own deep sigh. “Oh,” Varric muttered, and he gulped down the rest of his own ale before gesturing for a refill.

            The Commander frowned at his unexpected drinking buddy. “Why aren’t you over there?” he asked the dwarf. “You and the Inquisitor are close, aren’t you?”

            Varric shrugged sadly. “Nah, tonight she doesn’t need me hanging around. I’ll only dampen the mood. She deserves to have a little fun.”

            Cullen took a sip of his ale, wondering at the other man’s sudden melancholy. “Did something happen?”

            “Cassandra didn’t tell you?” Varric asked. “I figured she would have told everyone as soon as she knew. Maybe try to get a few more people to yell at me.”

            “I haven’t seen Cassandra today.”

            “Well, let’s just say I maybe, kind of, sort of - lied about not knowing where Hawke was,” the dwarf shook his head and took another gulp of ale.

            Cullen actually laughed, forgetting his own problems for the moment. “I would have thought that was obvious,” he said.

            Varric stared at him, amazed at the Commander’s humor about the matter. “Yeah, well, anyway - the Inquisitor had to pull her off me, got in the middle of it…she seemed angry with me when she did,” he sighed. “Not that I blame her. Poor Sparkles has enough on her plate without having to stop her Seeker from attacking her trusty, roguishly handsome sidekick.”

            “Sparkles?”

            “Yeah, sorry, that’s what I call her,” Varric took a gulp of ale. “Those spells she casts, the ones she uses on us as a barrier - they always sparkle, look like stars. Reminds me of her.”

            Cullen nodded, swallowing some ale as he remembered the first time she assaulted the Breach, when she had thrown a barrier in front of him while he fought the demons pouring out of the rift at the gates. He’d turned around, shocked that a mage would use magic to protect him, uneasy and surprised. And then she had thrown lightning behind him, stopped a shade from attacking him while he was distracted. He had never been protected by magic before, he’d only ever been hurt by it. Not even Hawke had used anything to bolster his defenses or shield him when he had stood with her against Meredith. Yet the Inquisitor hadn’t hesitated to protect him, even though he was a stranger. Surely if she’d known who he was, she wouldn’t have done it.

            “Varric! Cullen!” a soft voice said from behind where they sat. He froze as he snapped out of his reverie, his heart racing as he recognized her. “What are you doing over here? Come join us.”

            Varric and he both spun at the same time, slowly turning to face the one they had been discussing only a few moments before. “Hey, Sparkles,” Varric said, sounding falsely cheery. “Didn’t see you over there. I was just teaching our broody Commander here the finer points of drinking and relaxation.”

            Cullen didn’t say anything, realizing the dwarf’s lie would be undone if he opened his mouth. Instead he gave a jerky nod and stared into his tankard for a moment. He looked up at her finally and saw her smiling, a faint flush on her cheeks from the ale. “You can do that over here, too, you know,” the Inquisitor said, tugging Varric by the arm until he reluctantly slid off his stool. “You too, come on.”

            She grabbed Cullen’s free hand; she was squeezing it gently as she tried to encourage him to follow her, motioning for Varric to follow. He stared at where she held his hand as she led him, and he found himself wishing he hadn’t worn his gloves to the tavern, that he’d thought to change out of his armor and wear something less bulky. The sight of her delicate hand holding his fingers made his mind go blank. She tugged him a little more, tightening her grip as they moved through the crowd, and the action made her fingers slip between his own, interlacing as he had seen them in Dorian’s…

            “Look who I found,” she announced when they reached the crowded table. Cullen finally raised his gaze from where she still held him and saw the table erupt into a loud greeting at the sight of the two she had dragged over. “Go on, make room,” she was encouraging from beside him, and the mercenaries shifted so that two more chairs could be added.

            Varric slumped into his chair, resigned to what was happening, and Evelyn gave Cullen a small push toward his own chair. Her touch was light against his armored waist as she directed him to sit. Maker, why hadn’t he changed? She nudged Krem and encouraged him to slide over so that she could trade him places and sit on the end of the bench. Beside Cullen. He tugged at the mantle at his neck, feeling hot. He debated leaving.

            “Dorian, could you pass me my drink?” she pointed, and the mage passed her the tankard she requested.

            “Here you are, my dear,” the Tevinter said, winking as she took it from him. Despite himself, Cullen felt another twinge of jealousy at the term of endearment.

            “So, Commander, finally decided to take a break and join the rabble?” Iron Bull asked with a laugh and he reached across to pat Cullen forcefully on the shoulder. “Here, have some of this,” and Bull picked up a bottle from the middle of the table, but he paused when he saw there weren’t any more unclaimed cups.

            “He can use mine so he doesn’t have to drink out of the bottle,” the Inquisitor said, pointing to indicate which one it was. Cullen blanched, his eyes wide. She was offering to let him drink from her cup, to touch the same place her lips had…He shifted, increasingly uncomfortable. He couldn’t do it, he wasn’t even worthy of that honor.

            “No, really, I’m fine,” he said, waving his hand as he tried to refuse.

            “Oh please, Cullen, it’s delicious – at least try a little,” she was holding the cup up to Bull to fill, and he stared at her thin fingers as she offered the full cup to him. “Don’t worry, I don’t have the Blight or anything.”

            She was teasing him, still holding out the cup, waiting for him to take it with a smile on her face, her clear eyes twinkling at him. It was so enticing, and she was offering it to him, encouraging him, smiling so radiantly…

            “No, Inquisitor, I’d rather not,” he said, his tone coming out more harshly than he meant as he mentally warred with himself. He raised his eyes to her face, realizing his mistake, and he saw the carefree smile fade, her brows furrowing as she stared at him, hurt in her bright eyes.

            “It seems our dear Templar Commander is afraid he’ll catch magic from you, little bird,” Dorian quipped, and he laughed over the rim of his cup at his own wicked joke. Cullen’s face burned, a mess of emotions swirling within his brain. Evelyn had lowered the cup finally and set it on the table. She was looking down, staring into her ale, no longer smiling. Cullen had been longing to be the one she smiled at and he had even been presented with an opportunity to do so when she brought him over to their table to join them. Now she sat looking positively miserable because of something he had done. He hated himself. His insides felt like hot lead, his mouth dry, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

            “Curly’s still easing into this relaxation thing, he should stay away from the hard stuff,” Varric chimed in. “We’d hate to have our Commander out of commission tomorrow for his war meetings, eh? Who else could brood so well while discussing strategy?”

            Cullen shot Varric an appreciative glance as several chuckles met the dwarf’s words, easing the sudden tension at the table. “Fair enough,” Bull said. “Well then Boss, it’s all you - drink up!”

            She gave a small smile, but the easygoing laughter she had upon her face earlier was gone, snuffed out by the way he had snapped the word “Inquisitor” at her. The Commander sat staring into his tankard as the others around him began telling jokes and swapping stories again. Beside him Evelyn sat listening, but her laughs now died quickly and sounded slightly forced when she joined in with the others’ mirth. Dorian tried to engage her in conversation, still calling her ‘little bird’ or ‘my dear,’ flirting blatantly with her in front of all of them. Cullen stewed in his increasingly blackened mood. He had to get out of there.

            He drained the last of his ale and stood, pushing his chair back sharply. Several faces turned to him, and he jerked his head in silent farewell.

            “Back to work?” Varric asked him. Cullen nodded and clapped the dwarf on the shoulder as he walked by.

            She hadn’t looked up at him as he left.


	19. Knight-Commander

            “Commander, I was thinking, with the Herald away, we could -”

            “Wait, what?” he stopped his progress down the hall and turned to face the Ambassador as she approached him. “The Herald is away?”

            “Yes, Commander, surely she told you she was leaving this morning for Crestwood to meet Hawke?” Josephine was staring at him with a surprised frown. “She told me she had informed you she moved the departure up when she received Hawke’s letter.”

            Cullen closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying to get rid of the aching pain as it suddenly worsened. “I must have forgotten, I’m sorry, Ambassador,” he lied. She hadn’t told him; she hadn’t spoken to him since that night in the tavern, had done her best not to look at him in the war room over the last few days. “Who went with her?”

            “The Iron Bull, Varric, and Dorian,” the Ambassador answered. Cullen’s head gave another painful throb.

            “I see,” he gritted out. “Well, Ambassador, what did you want to discuss with me?”

            He rushed the meeting with Josephine, determined to get out of the keep and into the fresh air. As soon as he stepped outside, however, he found no relief as the sunlight hurt his eyes and made his head throb more painfully. Cullen’s head hadn’t stopped hurting this badly since he’d listened to Dorian calling her little bird as she sat beside him, looking like she wanted to cry. He leaned against the stone of the battlements and covered his eyes with his hand, taking steadying breaths.

            “Commander,” he heard from beside him. “Are you all right?”

            “I -” he wanted to tell Cassandra that he was fine, that he was tired, that it was nothing. But he’d been getting worse, shaking more intensely, not able to sleep longer than an hour a night, his head painfully throbbing. And now even the sunlight was too much for him.

            “Commander?” Cassandra repeated worriedly.

            “It’s getting worse,” he muttered.

            “But you were doing better. You told me you thought you were improving,” he could hear the frown in her voice as she spoke.

            “I was, but it was short lived.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. “I’m not sure I can do this, Cassandra. You need to relieve me, you need to -”

            “No, Commander,” she interrupted. “But I am going to order you to bed for the rest of the day. Skyhold and the Inquisition won’t fall apart if you allow yourself to get some sleep. I’ll send Adan with a sleeping draught.”

            “Cassandra, no, I -”

            “That’s an order, Commander, if I have to force it down your throat myself.”

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn sat by the fire of their camp, rereading the letter she held in her hands. She frowned, trying to determine why Mother Gisele had sent this problem to her, why the Revered Mother had even been contacted in the first place. She couldn’t make sense of it.

            “You’ll never forgive me if I let your face freeze in that frown, little bird,” Dorian took a seat beside her and she folded the letter quickly in her hand. “Shall I tell you jokes to make it go away? I know a great one about a Qunari mage and a Revered Mother who -”

            “No, Dorian, I’m fine,” she interrupted. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating. Dorian had quickly become one of her closest friends; indeed, he was one of the only friends she’d ever had in her entire life. She tried to decide what she would want to happen in a situation like this, if she had a choice. She looked at the folded letter, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

            “Well then at least tell me what’s the matter,” the Tevinter prompted.

            “Actually, there’s something I need to show you,” she handed him the letter and watched as he held it up to the firelight to read. His brows furrowed into a frown that rivaled the one she had previously worn herself. “Dorian?”

            He was shaking his head in disbelief. “Why…”

            “I thought you should know,” she murmured. “I’d want to make the decision for myself, if it were me.”

            Dorian reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

            “What do you want to do?”

            “I find myself curious…I think I’d like to go see what exactly it is this retainer wants,” he slowly answered. “How far are we from Redcliffe?”

            “Not far, we could go before we return to Skyhold,” she answered.

            “If it’s not out of the way, if it doesn’t delay our return overmuch…” he looked at her.

            She smiled and squeezed his fingers. “It’s not a problem.”

 

 

 

            “Open the gates!” she heard them call from overhead, and the gates of Skyhold slowly opened to admit the four of them. Evelyn felt thoroughly exhausted after her weeks away, and longed for the comfort of a bed and a pillow. As they rode their horses into the courtyard she looked over at Dorian beside her; he hadn’t said a word since they left Redcliffe.

            “Inquisitor!” she heard a deep voice call from her left, and she turned to see the Commander rushing across the courtyard toward them. “Where have you been? We were about to send out a patrol. We expected you back two days ago, you didn’t send a report -”

            “Sorry, Commander, we made a detour to Redcliffe,” she said, her tone a little stilted as she dismounted her horse, noticing how sharp his tone had sounded. She still couldn’t get past the way he’d hurled her title at her at the tavern weeks before. It hurt, knowing he couldn’t see her as anything else, wouldn’t spend time with her outside of their professional capacities. Cullen stepped forward and held the reins of her horse, looking down at her with a frown.

            “Is everything all right? What were you doing in Redcliffe?” he questioned her.

            “It was a personal matter,” she cast a furtive glance at Dorian, who had also dismounted.

            “A personal matter?” Cullen repeated, and if she weren’t mistaken she thought he looked angry.

            “Yes, Commander,” she replied, more icily than she meant to.

            “It was my fault, Commander,” Dorian said as he approached the two of them. “I had a sudden and overwhelming urge to pick some flowers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink. Little bird, you’re welcome to join me later. I’ll be in the tavern all night.” And with a flourished bow the Tevinter walked away from them.

            The Commander watched him go, still frowning. Evelyn pulled her satchel from the saddle atop her horse, expecting to walk away as well. Cullen turned around, easily blocking her path considering how much he towered over her. He stared at her with irritation more evident on his face.

            “What’s this about?” he demanded. Evelyn raised her eyebrow as she regarded him.

            “It was a personal matter, Commander. It has no effect on the Inquisition and did not need to be included in a report,” she answered steadily.

            “You can’t just take detours like this whenever the whim suits you, Inquisitor,” his voice was rising as he took a step closer to her. “At the very least you should have informed us you were going to Redcliffe – what if something had happened to you? We wouldn’t have known where to begin looking. Anything could have happened! You can’t make decisions like this without consulting me.”

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were actually my _Knight_ -Commander – if I had I would have known I can’t go anywhere without your permission. Now I know better,” she could feel her veins crackling with energy that almost seemed to pop off of her in her anger. He was standing so close to her he was sure to feel the air buzzing around her. “Please forgive me for not realizing you were my keeper, I’ll try to remember in the future. May I please go to my room, _Knight_ -Commander? I’d like to change out of my armor, if you’ll please allow me to do so.”

            His eyes widened and he took a few steps back from her, letting go of the reins of her horse and looking away. A few people in the area were staring, Varric and Iron Bull both frozen in place where they stood beside their horses. Her fist was shaking where it held her satchel, and she tried to take a steadying breath, struggling to redirect the energy that surged through her. She was beginning to worry she might accidentally strike him with lightning, and she quickly worked to calm herself.

            Cullen stood for a moment longer, still not looking at her, one hand gripping his sword as he flexed his other hand, shaking it slightly as if to shake away pain. Not saying another word he finally turned and marched away from her across the courtyard without a second glance.

            “Sparkles -” Varric began.

            “Not now, Varric,” she snapped, and she began her own quick pace across the courtyard.

            “Inquisitor, is something wrong?” Josephine greeted her when she saw her, and the Ambassador rushed to fall into step with her as she ran up the stairs into the keep.

            “Nothing, Ambassador, it’s fine,” Evelyn said, trying to keep her tone even. “I was heading to my quarters to change out of my armor, did you need anything?”

            “No, Inquisitor, I was just going to let you know that we’ve made some improvements to your quarters over the last few weeks. If anything is amiss, please let me know. We’ll see you later for your report on Crestwood,” the Ambassador gave her a parting nod and headed to her office.

            Evelyn continued to her quarters, slamming the door behind her before she quickly mounted the stairs. Briefly she took in the added furniture, the larger, more extravagant bed that now stood in the center of the room, but she threw her satchel and staff aside onto the floor and approached the bed. She flung herself across it and buried her face in the sheets, sobbing.


	20. The Storyteller

            Cullen leaned against the wall, his breath coming to him in gasping pants. His head was searing painfully, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He could still feel the crackle of the air around him, remembering how the air had hummed around her as she raised her voice at him. It had conjured memories, memories he thought he had buried, and he was trying desperately to push them back into the recesses of his mind. He grasped the fingertips of one glove and tried to yank it off, struggling with how much he shook. He finally managed to remove it and threw it on his desk, its mate joining it a few moments later.

            _Knight-Commander_. He could hear the echo of her voice saying the words, still see the look on her face when she yelled it at him. He felt as if she’d slapped him. He almost wished she had slapped him instead of ever calling him that.

            A knock sounded on his door, and he loudly growled, “Not now,” but the door was already opening. He glared at Varric as the dwarf pushed into the room, carrying a bottle and two cups in his hands. “Go away,” he groaned, but Varric shook his head and set the bottle and cups on the desk. He continued to glare as the dwarf took a seat in front of the desk and poured, offering a full cup to Cullen. The Commander threw himself into his chair opposite his unwelcome guest and accepted the offered cup, trying and failing to hide the shaking of his hand as he took it.

            “A bit of Antivan Brandy always helps,” Varric said, and Cullen was unsure if the other man had noticed his shaking. Varric held his own cup in the air in a brief toast before he took a sip. Cullen mimicked him. The brandy slid down his throat and he felt it warm him, soothing his frayed nerves the littlest bit. He took another sip.

            “Why are you here?” Cullen demanded. He’d meant to say, ‘thank you.’

            Varric thoughtfully took a sip of his brandy as he considered Cullen. “I like to think I know Sparkles pretty well,” he began, swirling the brown liquid in the cup as he spoke. “And I know she won’t tell you herself, so I will.”

            Cullen raised an eyebrow and took another sip before he gestured for Varric to continue.

            “We had a bad couple of weeks. Sure, we found the Warden Stroud easily with Hawke. But we found some pretty nasty things out about the village; we found the flooded remains of Old Crestwood, and it wasn’t pretty. She was really shaken up, but she tried to hide it. Just like she tried to hide it when she was being accused of killing the Divine and everyone else after the Conclave. Just like she tried to hide it when she had nothing to do but be gawked at the first few weeks she was at Haven. Like she tried to hide it when we were in the Hinterlands and she was forced to kill for the first time, including mages and Templars who she could have known, once. Like she tried to hide it when she came back from Redcliffe and a future so horrible none of us can even begin to imagine it. Like she tried to hide it when she threw herself at that damn dragon to save all of our sorry asses, yours included. Like she’s been trying to hide it since you lot made her Inquisitor and placed all this pressure on her,” he held up a hand when Cullen opened his mouth to interrupt his list. “Andraste’s ass, Curly, she’s only twenty. She practically grew up in the Circle and didn’t ever leave it until the Conclave, and now you’ve been sending her running around to try to fix all of Thedas by herself.”

            “I -” Cullen began, but Varric gave him a pointed glare and he fell silent, draining the rest of his brandy instead.

            “She’s hurting, and she’s overwhelmed. It’s obvious she hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months, all you have to do is look at the poor kid to see it. Meanwhile only a select few, like yours truly and Dorian, have tried to treat her like she’s still a normal person instead of just the Herald and the Inquisitor. So when she got the chance to help one of those friends in return, she took it, without a second thought, because that’s who she is,” Varric finally finished, and he drained his brandy.

            Cullen sat staring at his empty cup and felt shame wash over him. Varric was right, he knew. He’d seen the way her eyes had changed, the way they’d lost a bit of their spark. He’d seen the dark circles under her eyes and the way it took her so long to smile, as though the muscles in her face couldn’t quite manage the action. Once again he hated himself.

            “What was the personal matter?” he asked. “Damn it, never mind, I just -”

            “Dorian’s father tricked him into a meeting with him; he sent a letter to Mother Gisele who then appealed to Sparkles, because of course she did.” Varric sighed, as though deciding to just tell him and be done with it. “Bull and I hung back in the tavern but I heard the whole damn thing. Dorian’s magister father had previously tried to use blood magic to control him and make him – uh – agree to marry, to continue the family line. Dorian found out and managed to get away, but his father was trying to meet with him now to make amends, or so he said. Sparkles went with him and supported him when he cut the bastard out of his life for good, just as he should.”

            “He tried to use – blood magic?” Cullen frowned and spluttered. “Just for an arranged marriage? That’s horrible.”

            “Not just that, Curly,” Varric shook his head, staring at him like he thought the Commander was daft. “He was trying to make him like women, to be more ‘normal’ in his eyes. Dorian prefers men, and his family didn’t find that acceptable - so they decided to give blood magic a try. Damn Tevinters.”

            A wave of horrible realization washed over Cullen and he closed his eyes, raising his fingers to rub his eyelids. He felt Varric reach over with the bottle and top off his cup, and he instantly drained it in one gulp.

            He was exceedingly stupid, about a lot of things. He needed to see Evelyn.


	21. Friends & Succor

            Evelyn had lied, had said she wasn’t feeling well, and begged off the meeting in the war room to discuss the events in Crestwood and what Hawke and Stroud had discovered. Instead she made her way to the upper level of the tavern, entering through the battlements. She was wearing a set of her old robes under her cloak and a pair of soft leather gloves to hide her marked palm. She had her hair loose, so that no one could recognize her by her usual long plait. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her. She just wanted to be Evelyn, tonight - without the stares, without the revered silence that followed her everywhere. The memory of her argument with the Commander made her lips quiver, tears springing back into her puffy eyes. She quelled the feeling and continued making her quiet way into the tavern.

            The upper level was deserted, and she slowly crept onto the staircase, trying to discreetly look in the common room for the one she sought. Finally she saw him, sitting with Iron Bull at the bar, his face in a thoughtful frown as he listened to the Qunari speaking. Evelyn crouched at the top of the stairs to see through the railing, and tried to get Dorian’s attention without anyone else seeing her. Bull happened to glance her way and did a double take; he nudged Dorian’s elbow with his and pointed up at her. She motioned with her hand for him to come upstairs, and he grabbed a bottle and another cup from the bar top and bid farewell to his companion.

            “Hiding out tonight are we, little bird?” he asked as he approached her on the stairs. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

            “I don’t want to be around a lot of people,” she murmured. He gave an understanding nod.

            “I’m honored you still want to be around me, though,” he teased, but she noticed a sad look around his eyes, as though the statement held more truth than humor. They walked to a bench against the wall of the deserted upper floor and sat beside each other. Dorian filled her cup from the bottle he carried and passed it to her. “My dear, have you ever gotten truly, completely drunk?”

            She gave a shake of her head as she took a small sip.

            He gave a chuckle and topped off his cup before he set the bottle down beside them. “You should really try it sometime. It’s good for the soul.”

            A comfortable silence fell between them as they each drank away their own problems. Dorian topped them off again, giving Evelyn an encouraging smile as he did so. “You know, I didn’t properly thank you for everything you said and did in Redcliffe.”                     

            “No need,” she demurred softly, not feeling like she needed his thanks. “Are you all right?”

            “I should be, after a few more drinks,” he answered, contemplating the cup he held in his hand. “Maker only knows what you must think about me now.” It was barely a whisper, and it tugged at her heartstrings.

            “Dorian, you’re my friend,” she said, resting her hand on his. “You’re charming, and fun, and I enjoy flirting with you. In fact, you’re maybe the first person I’ve ever flirted with. But all I need right now is a friend, and you’ve been that for me - through quite a lot, I might add. Please tell me you’ll stay my friend. You haven’t done anything wrong, and I need you.”

            He turned his hand against hers and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Yes, of course. You’ve been a good friend to me, as well, when I needed it most. Thank you, Evelyn.”

            She drained the rest of her brandy, and then smiled at him. “We got trapped in time together, it’s only right that we stick by each other now.”

            He chuckled. “Well, there’s no one I’d rather be stuck in time with. Although, let’s try not to repeat that particular experience any time soon.”

            Evelyn reached for the bottle and topped them both off again.

            “Are you trying to get me drunk, Inquisitor?” he teased. “I’ll have you know I’m not that easy, even though you are a beautiful woman.”

            “You said it was good for the soul, I thought maybe I’d give it a try,” she set the bottle down and leaned back against his side, taking his hand once more.

            “Yes, how are you, by the way? I hear your discussion with our brooding Commander got a little heated,” he looked sidelong at her, and she hoped he couldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. He pressed her hand with his fingers, rubbing her palm with his thumb. “I’m sure everything will be fine. You’ve had a rough time of it, I feel certain he’ll understand once you speak with him.”

            “It’s not just that, it’s -”

            “I know,” he said, and he reached over and wiped the tear that slid down her cheek. The simple gesture, feeling like someone actually cared and understood her and was willing to comfort her like she was a normal person, overwhelmed her. She turned to him, burying her face against his neck as she cried. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her against him, stroking her hair and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Poor little bird, poor little Evelyn. You’ve been through so – Ah, Commander!”

            Evelyn jumped when she heard Dorian’s surprised greeting, and she hastily pulled away and began wiping at her cheeks. She was trying desperately to hide the sight of her tears, not wanting Cullen to see them. Dorian leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee, his elbow jutting out to the side, as though he was trying to let her hide her face behind him. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

            “Fancy seeing you here, Commander,” Dorian greeted, and Evelyn couldn’t help but notice he had a slight edge to his voice. “If you’re looking for more relaxation lessons, I must warn you I’m not sure you’ll find them here tonight.”

            “No, I -” she heard Cullen begin to speak, but he hesitated. “I was hoping I might speak with the Inquisitor. In private, if you don’t mind.”

            “That is entirely up to her,” Dorian replied, and he turned to Evelyn, waiting for her to answer.

            She took a deep breath to steady herself and finally raised her gaze. She gave Dorian a small quirk of her lips, trying to express her gratitude, and then she finally turned to look at the Commander. He was standing awkwardly, hesitantly, shoulders slightly hunched as he waited for her. He looked slightly broken as his eyes moved over her face, taking in the streaks on her cheeks and her puffy eyes. He frowned deeply when he returned his gaze to hers.

            “I’m delivering my report on Crestwood tomorrow, Commander, surely you can wait until then -” she began, her voice shakier than she wanted it to be.

            “No,” he interrupted. “I need to speak with you privately. Please, Evelyn.”

            It was the fact that he used her name, the way his voice sounded as he gently pleaded with her. She looked up at Dorian and nodded, and the Tevinter gave her a quick squeeze on the knee and stood to leave, taking the bottle with him. Evelyn raised her gaze to the Commander and waited for him to speak.

 

* * *

 

           The Commander had looked for her for almost an hour, practicing what he might say in his head as he searched Skyhold, trying to find the adequate words to apologize. His mind went blank, however, when he finally found her. Iron Bull had seen him looking urgently around the tavern, and the Qunari had wordlessly gestured up the stairs. Cullen didn’t have to question how Bull knew who he was looking for, remembering that he had been in the courtyard earlier. Instead he quickly mounted the steps to find her. His practiced speech had fled when he saw who she was with, and what she was doing. He was momentarily stunned into silence, looking at her crying in Dorian’s arms. Her whole body shook with her sobs as the other man pressed a consoling kiss to the top of her head.

            Maker he had been so stupid, about everything. A pang of resentment passed through him, tangling itself with his shame. He realized he had always been jealous of the casual way the Tevinter mage handled her, touching her so easily and freely to soothe her. He still was envious of that, because he wished to be the one to do it instead. But then he remembered that he was part of the reason her whole body was heaving with her sorrow, and he chided himself for wanting to be her comfort since he’d only been adding to her pain in recent months.

            Cullen hesitated now, listening to make sure Dorian really had gone down the stairs. He looked at Evelyn and thought about taking the seat the other man had just vacated, but he found himself unable to be that close to her. The memory of her magic humming through the air around him made him keep his distance almost as much as the desire he was fighting to pull her into his arms. He mentally shook himself as he imagined running his tongue softly along her cheeks to trace the path her tears had fallen. He had to focus, this was too important.

            He finally grabbed a chair that sat beside him and moved it to face her, taking a seat across from her as she watched him. He tried to remember his practiced speech, everything he wanted to say, and everything he’d realized when he had spoken with Varric earlier that day. Instead he began simply with, “I’m sorry.”

            Her eyes were boring into him; that clear piercing gaze tore through him again as if she could see his very soul. “What for?” she gently prompted him.

            “A lot of things,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for that night before you left, for snapping at you as I did – I should never have treated you that way. I’m sorry for earlier, you didn’t deserve any of that anger. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

            She was still watching him, her fingers fidgeting lightly with the cup she held as she listened to him. He saw her lips tighten, her blinking became more rapid, and the sight tugged at his heartstrings.

            “I just want to keep you safe, Inq – Evelyn,” he said. “You certainly didn’t deserve for me to lash out at you like that, but I was concerned. I hadn’t heard from you, I didn’t know where you were…” He paused as he thought about everything that had raced through his mind when she hadn’t shown up for two days, the hours passing at a glacial pace as he imagined horrible things happening to her. “It’s my duty to keep you safe. But I should never have been angry with you. Just please, promise next time – next time send a letter, something that tells me where you are, tell a scout where you are headed…”

            His voice cracked and he clenched his hands together between his spread knees, trying to stop their shaking, his elbows resting on his thighs. Slowly she nodded. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t think taking such a short detour would be a cause for so much concern.”

            _Only to me_ , he thought. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I am not your keeper. I am not a Templar, trying to keep you under lock and key -”

            “I’m sorry I said that -”

            “No, I understand. You lived your whole life in the Circle, not allowed any measure of freedom. I should have realized…” he hesitated. He should have realized a lot of things. “Just please, let me keep you safe.”

            She stared at him, her clear eyes searching his face for something before she spoke. “I forgive you.”

            The words acted like a balm on his soul, and he hung his head and closed his eyes as he let them wash over him. He still couldn’t fully understand why he needed her forgiveness more than anyone else’s, even when she wasn’t the one he had wronged. Cullen tried to refocus. “I realize you’ve been through a lot, and we haven’t exactly let you rest or catch your breath. A lot has happened over the last few months, and I fear we’ve only isolated you more with the expectations we added when we made you the Inquisitor,” he looked up at her. There it was again, that tightening of her lips and the quick blinking of the dark lashes that fringed her unusual eyes. “It’s been overwhelming, I can only imagine. I’ve been organizing things. I realized there’s actually a lull, now, an opportunity to let you rest. I’d like for you to stay here, for the next month. Our forces can handle everything that needs to be handled while we plan our approach in Orlais, and gather our information about the threats against the Empress.”

            “A month?” she repeated sharply. “You’d like me to stay here and sit around for a month? You’re not my keeper but you’d like for Skyhold to be my cage while you let others do the work I should be doing? Like I’m weak, or untrustworthy?”

            It wasn’t the reaction he had expected. He meant to offer it as succor, as a chance for her to recuperate and maybe get some sleep for a change. He saw her recoil slightly, her brow furrowed, her face hurt and angry. “Evelyn - Inquisitor, that’s not at all what I meant -”

            “Then what? You saw a little rebellion in me and you want to keep me under observation for now, make sure I’m not going to run off and disobey you again?”

            His jaw dropped. He couldn’t understand how the conversation had taken this turn, and he was out of his depth. “Please, no -” he saw the way her chest heaved, her breaths shaky as she tried to keep herself from crying. But the tears slid from her eyes as she pressed her lips together and tried to choke back sobs.

            Without any hesitation he slipped from the chair, falling to his knees before her. Cullen reached out a hand, taking her own trembling one in his gloved fingers and trying to raise her chin with his other beneath it. “Evelyn, please – that’s not what I meant at all. Listen to me,” he implored her. She held her eyes closed even as he lifted her face so he could peer into it. “I know what happened in Crestwood. I know how much you’ve been through since the Conclave. I see the way your smile falters, the way you look like you haven’t slept peacefully in months. I want to help you. Please - please, Evelyn, let me do this for you. Let me give you some time to rest.”

            She was trying to take steadying breaths, trying to stop crying, but each of her attempts seemed to make it worse. Soon she was hanging her head, sobbing. Despite himself, even though the scolding voice screamed for him not to do it, Cullen placed his arm around her shoulders and leaned her head against the fur mantle on his shoulders. Her hands reached up and clutched the front folds of the cloth, clinging to him as she continued to sob, and he hesitantly stroked her back.

            “I’m – I’m sorry,” she gasped through her tears.

            “Don’t apologize,” he muttered. “There’s no need. I’m so sorry, for everything we’ve asked of you. It’s been too much.”


	22. Safe Haven

            She couldn’t stop crying. The mental dam she had kept in place for the last few months had finally broken, and the depth of her sorrow, exhaustion, and frustration had released itself against her will. Evelyn clutched his mantle, wishing she could feel the soft fur through her gloves. He was stroking her back, slowly, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to do it properly. No matter how much she tried to, she couldn’t stop sobbing.

            Her world suddenly shifted as she felt him move, and then one of his arms was under her legs and she felt him pull her off the bench into his arms. He was carrying her, as he had the night he carried her through Haven when she’d been attacked by a drunk. The rocking motion of his steps soothed her and she managed to stop sobbing so uncontrollably, the tears instead falling down her cheeks accompanied by little hiccoughs and tiny gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

            The icy air was biting on her wet face as he carried her across the battlements, avoiding the courtyard and its bustling inhabitants. The twilight provided them with enough cover so that she hoped anyone who might look up wouldn’t recognize who it was he carried. One of her hands was still holding on to his mantle as she rested her head on his shoulder; she felt herself unable to let go of the comfort she found gripping onto the fur. Evelyn managed to look ahead of them and saw that he was taking one of the back ways into the keep, still trying to keep her away from the gaze of any onlookers by avoiding the populated areas.

            She closed her eyes again and snuggled her cheek against where it rested, her tears still streaming unheeded onto the fabric and fur of his mantle. Evelyn didn’t even wonder where he was taking her, and instead just let him carry her where he may, comforted by his strong arms holding her. She almost wished he’d never stop walking, continue with no destination in mind, just so long as he held her this way.

            A soft voice sounded near them, asking Cullen a question, and he responded in a deep murmur. Evelyn didn’t try to make out the words or figure out who it was. The fog of her crying blocked out everything beyond the safe haven of the arms around her. She felt him nudge a door open and he began to mount a staircase slowly, and she finally opened her eyes to look at where they were. He was carrying her into her quarters, and he approached the bed and set her gently upon its edge.

            Cullen stayed close, kneeling in front of her, and he reached down and softly began to tug her leather slippers from her feet. Her hand was still holding on to his mantle, unwilling to let go of him. He set her shoes by the bed and pulled one glove off of her before he gently tugged her fingers from his mantle and removed the other. As soon as he took it off of her, she grabbed the fur again. He set aside the gloves and lifted his fingers to the fastenings of her cloak next. She watched him as he focused on his task, admiring his face this close to hers, taking in details she’d never noticed. She closely examined the golden stubble on his jaw, the scar at the corner of his lips. She wondered how he’d gotten it; she’d never heard him speak of it, and she hadn’t thought to ask.

            He lifted her to her feet gently to remove her cloak and pull the sheets of the bed back. “Get in, Evelyn, you should try to get some sleep,” he murmured, and he tried to remove her fingers from where she still clung to him. She tightened her grip, not wanting him to go.

            “No, please -” she started crying harder once more. She took a step toward him and buried her face against his chest again, his armor hard and cold against her forehead.

            “Evelyn -” he was trying to push her back, toward the bed, encouraging her to get under the covers. She refused to budge.

            “Don’t leave me alone - please, Cullen,” she begged. She sobbed and wouldn’t let him direct her to the bed. She didn’t want to be alone. She just wanted him to keep holding her. She had felt better when he carried her, she had almost stopped crying. If he left she knew her sobs wouldn’t stop.

            He stiffened for a moment and stopped trying to guide her back to the bed. Slowly his hands reached to the back of her arms and he pulled her back so that he could look down into her face. His brow was furrowed, he almost looked pained, but his eyes roamed over her tear streaked cheeks and he gave a small, jerky nod. She loosened her grip finally and let him guide her to the bed now that he had consented to stay. He pulled her gently by the hand and sat upon the bed, leaning back against the headboard with one knee crossed beneath him, the other foot remaining on the ground. She crawled onto the bed and pressed herself against his chest, her cheek taking up its former place on the fur mantle, her legs pulled up so that she was completely encircled in his arms. He was so much bigger than she was, and she curled herself against him, in his lap as she perched on his thigh, seeking whatever warmth and comfort she could find despite the armor between them. Evelyn let herself keep crying, her eyes closed, and occasionally she snuggled her face against him, wiping her cheeks on the fur that smelled like leather and smoke.

 

* * *

 

            It took all of his effort to keep himself focused, all of his effort to stare straight ahead and remind himself that she just needed comforting. He told himself she only asked him to stay because he was the one present, that she would have asked Dorian if he had been there instead. He kept one foot planted firmly on the ground, refusing to let himself be fully on her bed. Cullen worried where his brain would wander, how much hope he would let himself feel, if he reclined on the bed with her completely. So he kept himself stiff, letting her curl against him as he held his arms around her lightly, unwilling to touch her fully. He tried to ignore the pressure on his thigh from where she was sitting on it, tried not to think about the fact that she was in his lap, clinging to him with her hands.

            There was the scent again, wafting up to him from her hair as she rubbed her face against his mantle. Like rain, reminding him of a spring thunderstorm. She kept trying to snuggle closer to him, her fingers running lightly through the fur. She murmured incoherently and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He realized after a long time had passed that she had stopped crying, her breathing becoming deep and even. Cullen shifted slightly and peered down into her face; she had fallen asleep.

            He worried if he moved she would wake up, and so he held her until she no longer stirred or snuggled against his shoulder. His fingers stroked through the black hair that cascaded down her back, and he was once more disappointed by his habit of wearing his armor and gloves all the time. She was finally loosening her grip on his mantle as she relaxed in her sleep, and he began to slide himself out from under her, lifting her curled form off of him and onto the pillows. He tucked the sheets and blankets around her and she sighed, her fingers flexing slightly where her hand rested on the pillow. Cullen couldn’t resist smoothing her hair off her face, letting himself stare at her a moment longer as she slumbered.

            Finally assured that she was resting comfortably, he turned away from the bed and slowly made his way down the stairs and out of her quarters, closing the door softly behind him. Josephine was standing waiting for him.

            “Is the Inquisitor all right, Commander?” she asked, stepping forward. He wondered if she had been waiting for him since she’d seen him carrying Evelyn past her in the hall and tried to follow him.

            He sighed and glanced back at the door to the Inquisitor’s quarters before he answered. “Let’s get Cassandra and Leliana, we need to talk.”

 

 

       

            “A month?” Leliana questioned. “Do you think that is wise, Commander?”

            “Yes,” he answered firmly, his hand resting casually on his pommel as he looked at the surprised faces of the three women across from him. “I think it is our best course of action to let the Inquisitor rest. We need her at her best if we hope to save Empress Celene.”

            “I…actually agree,” Cassandra chimed in, speaking slowly. “I have noticed the Inquisitor struggling, since the Hinterlands. I spoke with Varric about the events in Crestwood, and I’ve spoken before with her other companions when they return from their travels. They all say the same thing; she’s drained, overwhelmed, though she tries her best to hide it.”

            “What happened tonight?” Josephine asked, turning to him. “She was nearly hysterical when you carried her by my office.”

            “I also spoke with Varric,” Cullen nodded at Cassandra. “He expressed the same sentiment that she is beginning to become overwhelmed with her duties and the expectations of being Inquisitor, and that Crestwood seemed especially hard on her. She and I also had an…argument, when she returned this afternoon. I sought her out to apologize and suggest that she take some time. It seems the suggestion finally broke her resolve to hide her burden, and she burst into tears and was unable to stop.”

            “Is she all right?” Leliana asked with concern.

            “She’s sleeping, now,” Cullen answered.

            “Did she take a sleeping draught?” Cassandra asked.

            “No, she asked me to stay with her, she seemed scared to be alone. She fell asleep in -” he stopped, unable to say that she’d fallen asleep in his arms, that she’d fallen asleep as he held her to him. “I stayed with her until she stopped crying and fell asleep.”

            He noticed Leliana’s quirked brow as she looked at him and he tried to keep his face neutral. Nothing got past their spymaster, and he knew she had to be filling in the words he’d left unspoken. Cullen shifted on his feet a little, avoiding her gaze.

            “We should have someone check on her, maybe a healer,” Cassandra suggested.

            “I’ve noticed she seems exhausted, I wonder how long it’s been since she actually slept,” Josephine sighed. “I agree, we should have a healer check on her, maybe have them administer sleeping draughts for her. At least for a week, to make sure she can sleep well at night, to try to catch up on rest.”

            Cullen nodded. “I’ll send for Adan in the morning, see what he can do for her.”

            “Do we really think we can afford a month without her? There have been more reports of rifts all over Thedas, and Hawke and Stroud are heading to the Western Approach -” Leliana began.

            “We’ll manage,” he interrupted. “Our forces grow by the day, and they are becoming more capable. Leliana’s scouts and my soldiers should be able to handle things for a month. We owe this much to the Inquisitor, since it was us who placed this burden on her shoulders.”

            The three before him nodded their assent.


	23. Rest

            Evelyn was sitting on a bench under the weeping willow in the estate’s garden, twisting blue and white flowers into a crown to wear. She felt calm, though she felt eyes on her. She could tell it wasn’t a malevolent presence, and so she didn’t turn around to search out what it was. It felt like a familiar presence, the same comforting one she had felt every time she sat here before. And so she hummed softly to herself and relaxed, feeling content. She felt like she was waiting for someone, but she didn’t quite know who. In the distance she thought she heard a trickle of laughter, and she wondered if it was Bron, trying to sneak up on her where she sat…

            Slowly Evelyn felt herself leaving the Fade as her eyes fluttered open. Sunlight was filtering through the glass doors that opened onto the two balconies that overlooked Skyhold and the mountains. She blinked as she came into consciousness and rolled over to look at the canopy above her. She was wearing her robes still, she saw, when she pushed back the sheets to sit up. Evelyn couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she remembered Cullen holding her as she wept. Somehow she didn’t feel embarrassed; it had been incredibly comforting, and the fact that she had finally let herself cry made her feel a little bit of relief. She rubbed her tear-swollen eyes and got out of her bed, wandering out onto one of her balconies to enjoy the fresh morning air.

            She wondered a bit how she would spend her day. She had intended to attend the war council and tell them about Crestwood, but she doubted if they still wanted her to do so now that she had been ordered to rest. Determining to change and at least go down to the kitchens for something to eat, she headed back into her quarters.

            “Ah, Inquisitor,” she heard from the stairs, and turned to see Adan standing in her room. “I thought you might still be asleep.”

            “Adan,” she greeted with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

            “The Commander asked me to check on you,” the healer replied. “If you’re not busy, I’d like to examine you.”

            Evelyn raised an eyebrow as he gestured to a chair in front of her fireplace. She followed his silent instruction and took a seat, sitting on the edge of the chair. Adan set his staff and satchel of healing herbs and poultices on the small table beside the chair and began looking her over. He asked questions about how much she had been sleeping, any injuries she had suffered recently, how her dreams in the Fade had been, and how she was feeling overall. He examined her puffy eyes closely, listening as she answered his questions.

            “You seem to be suffering from exhaustion,” Adan finally said. “Extreme exhaustion,” he added pointedly.

            She shuffled her feet and avoided his gaze.

            “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping well? I could have done something for you,” he scolded her lightly.

            “It’s nerves, it’s everything I’m facing, having to do,” she murmured. “I didn’t think there was anything that would fix it.”

            “Well, the Commander is right to ask you to rest, right now,” the healer sighed as he stood up and rummaged through his satchel. He removed some small vials and set them out on the table. “Your advisors asked for me to give you sleeping draughts, for this first week. They want to be sure you get some uninterrupted sleep. I’ll see if you need to continue taking them after that.”

            “I’m fine, really -”

            “It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid. They gave me the strictest orders this morning that I’m to observe you this month, and that you are to take sleeping draughts every evening for at least a week.”

            “Am I on bed rest then? Confined to this room?” Evelyn folded her arms, frowning sharply. She felt annoyed by her advisors’ demands.

            “Not at all – your days you may spend as you please, though I suggest you take it easy, at least this first week or two. The entire point of this month is to allow you to regain your strength, after all,” he gave her a sideways look as he picked up his items to leave.

            “They’re treating me like an invalid,” she grumbled.

            “Inquisitor, this is necessary. Their concerns are not without merit. Now please, take it easy,” and with that he gave her a nod of his head and left the room.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn walked slowly through the courtyard, watching some new recruits spar under the careful gaze of a veteran Templar. She had spent the morning in her quarters after she grabbed breakfast from the kitchen, but after she had taken a lengthy, relaxing bath she’d found herself restless and decided to wander Skyhold. Her old habit of watching the sparring wasn’t as satisfying as it used to be, though, and she continued on. All it brought up was memories of fights she’d been in, people she’d had to kill, and she didn’t want to follow that train of thought at the moment. She mounted one of the staircases to the battlements and walked along, staring out at the snowy mountains. She enjoyed the peaks that surrounded Skyhold. They made her feel peaceful and serene.

            She came upon a tower in the battlements and opened the door, intending to pass through and continue her walk. She hadn’t thought the room was in use, though, and was surprised when she saw that she had found herself in what appeared to be the Commander’s office. Cullen looked up from where he sat at his desk when he heard the door open, and smiled and stood quickly when he saw her enter. “Inquisitor, what a surprise,” he said, and he walked around the desk to approach her. “How are you, this morning?”

            Evelyn closed the door behind her and took a few steps toward him, closing the distance between them. “Better, thank you,” she murmured, holding her arms crossed against her chest. She hadn’t thought she was embarrassed, but now that she stood before him she was having issues looking up at him.

            “How did you sleep?” he asked. She could tell he was trying to peer into her face, and restlessly raised and lowered one of his hands a few times. She wondered if he wanted to lift her chin again so that he could look into her face to assess her for himself. She momentarily considered not looking up just to see if he would do it. “Evelyn?” he finally questioned, taking another small step toward her.

            “I slept well,” she finally looked up at him. Cullen was frowning slightly, but he gave a quirking smile when she replied. His eyes moved rapidly over her face, as though he was inspecting her thoroughly. He gave a slight nod, as though he was pleased with what he saw. She gave him a small upward tug of the corners of her mouth. “Although I’m assuming Adan already told you that,” she added, watching his reaction. She was surprised when he merely chuckled.

            “Yes, he did. But I still wanted to hear it from you,” he gestured with his hand for her to take a seat in a chair before his desk, and she hesitantly did so.

            “I didn’t realize this tower was in use, I was just walking along the battlements. I don’t mean to interrupt your work, Commander,” she said. Evelyn had noticed that he had called her Inquisitor again when she entered, and she decided to use the same formality as she spoke with him. She was wondering why he’d returned to using her title, when he had so readily called her by her name the previous evening. She wondered too why it still hurt so much to hear.

            His brow furrowed a little as he resumed his seat across from her, and she wondered if he was curious about her renewed formality. “I don’t mind, it’s mostly been a pointless endeavor this morning as it is.”

            “Something I can help with?”

            Cullen’s scarred mouth twisted into a grin again. “No, not at present.”

            “Because you’ve ordered me to rest?” she sighed, tapping a foot restlessly.

            “No, not because of that,” he rushed to answer. “There’s nothing to do about this particular problem at the moment. At least not until we gather more information.”

            “What’s wrong?” she asked suddenly, distracted. He was scowling sharply as he stared at the reports on his desk, rubbing one of his temples with his fingers as though it hurt him terribly.

            “Hm?” he looked up and quickly lowered his hand when he saw how intently she was watching him. “I recognized one of the Templars with the Elder One at Haven; he was formerly at Kirkwall with me. His name is Samson. I’ve been trying to determine his location as well as his involvement, that is all. But the trail is hard to follow.”

            Again she noticed how his eyes changed, how they hardened and he seemed to withdraw inside himself. She noticed too that he hadn’t answered her question, or at least not the way she had meant it. He had delivered a report about what he was working on instead of answering about his apparent headache. She frowned and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, but decided not to push the issue. “How well did you know Samson, in Kirkwall?”

            “We were bunkmates when I first arrived, but Samson was soon disciplined and removed from the Order.”

            “He was kicked out?” Evelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise. It must have been something horrible for him to have been expelled; she knew the Order only dismissed Templars over gravely serious infractions.

            “Yes, he and Meredith always clashed. He had – erm, differences of opinions about his duties, I suppose you might say.” He shuffled some pieces of parchment before he leaned back in his chair with a sigh, again rubbing his temples with his fingers.

            “Cullen, are you all right?” she finally asked, unable to resist the urge any longer.

            “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he muttered, again dropping his hand quickly. “Just a headache, it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

            “Do you get a lot of headaches? I notice you rub your temples quite frequently.”

            “Pressures of the job, I suppose,” he answered lightly, but she noticed a forced nonchalance in how he said it.

            “Maybe you’re the one in need of a month of rest, instead,” she suggested wryly. He chuckled.

            “I’m fine, really, Evelyn,” he demurred. “Please don’t trouble yourself with it.”

            “You’re the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and I’m the Inquisitor. It’s my job to worry about you and make sure you’re all right. Just as much as it is for you to do the same for me,” she told him, and then frowned when she saw the strange look he gave her. She couldn’t tell at all what he was thinking; he looked both grateful and annoyed at her words.

            “I appreciate that,” he said, but she wasn’t quite sure he fully meant it. “But I’m fine. As I said, do not trouble yourself with it.”

            “Won’t you at least ask Adan for something?”

            “No,” he said forcefully, and she wondered at the change in his tone. “It’s just a headache. I can endure it.”

            Evelyn sat back with a huff and stared at the wall. She thought about leaving, and she considered how angry he would be if she turned the tables and asked Adan to give him an examination as well. Something told her he wouldn’t appreciate it, and she felt a little wicked when she thought about doing it anyway.

            “I’m sorry, Evelyn,” he said suddenly. He was leaning his elbows on the desk looking at her earnestly. “I’m frustrated at this report, but it has nothing to do with you. I really need to stop snapping at you. You’re only trying to help, I know…”

            She gave him a small smile. “It’s all right, Cullen. I shouldn’t have interrupted your work.”

            “I meant it when I said I don’t mind,” his voice was low; he was giving her that lopsided grin again.

            Her heart sped up. It had been weeks since he’d looked at her like that, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. There had been so much tension with them recently, and she had been gone so long in Crestwood. She had felt herself doubting whether or not they could return to their easygoing camaraderie of Haven. Her realization that she cared about him in the Chantry felt so long ago, but she hadn’t been able to think of what to do about it in the midst of everything that had happened since then. Another doubt had started to creep into her mind, a crippling doubt that had made her lash out at him when he had reminded her of the Templars in Ostwick. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the look on his face when she’d sneered and called him ‘Knight-Commander.’

              “Cullen, could you -” she began, but her nerve fled, and she redirected her question. She couldn’t bring herself to ask that, couldn’t risk the pain of rejection she would feel when he answered her as she feared he might. Instead she said, “I know I apologized, last night, but I wanted to do so again. I never should have called you Knight-Commander. And I’m sorry, too, for the way my magic was flaring up. You were standing so close to me, I know you had to feel it…”

            He raised his eyebrows and contemplated her across the desk. “I did, yes,” he admitted slowly. “You don’t need to apologize but…thank you for doing so, it means a great deal to me.”

            They fell into a comfortable silence, and she noticed that a thoughtful smile was tugging at his lips as he looked at her. She was sure she was blushing under his careful regard, and she looked away. “Are you certain there isn’t anything I can do to help?”

            “For the moment, just rest, Evelyn,” he said softly. “That will do plenty to help.”


	24. Friendly Advice

            “Thank you, Adan,” Cullen said with a firm nod. “I’m glad to hear it’s done some good.”

            “Of course, Commander. I’ll check on her again in a few days and see how she’s faring without the draughts,” the healer replied, and he gave a curt bow and left the room.

            Cullen smiled to himself and looked down to return to his reports, pleased that Adan had reported Evelyn was improving and seemed more rested. But he realized he didn’t hear the door close and raised his head again.

            “Knock knock?” Dorian said in greeting. He was holding open the door Adan had just departed through, looking hesitantly into the room.

            “Dorian,” Cullen greeted, his voice stiff. “What can I do for you?”

            The Tevinter appeared to understand himself invited into the office and swaggered his way in, looking around casually as he did so. Finally he stopped before the desk and folded his arms. “You know, it occurs to me that you and I – ah – don’t seem to get along very well,” Dorian mused, one eyebrow raised. “No doubt an old habit from your days as a Templar, seeing as I’m a dirty mage from Tevinter.”

            “I -” Cullen began, unsure of what to say. Dorian laughed and held up a hand.

            “There’s no use denying it, Commander. It’s been fairly obvious, and I know I haven’t made it easy for you to like me,” he tapped his fingers on the wood of the desk. “I was thinking we could sort out our differences the old fashioned way.”

            Cullen raised an eyebrow inquiringly but didn’t answer.

            “With a battle of wits, of course,” the Tevinter’s eyes sparkled with humor, like he knew the way Cullen had initially interpreted his suggestion. “Do you play chess, Commander?”

 

* * *

 

            “Hm, I hadn’t expected you to see through that,” Dorian mused across the chess board from him.

            “It was a fairly obvious move,” Cullen pointed out, chuckling. He hadn’t played chess in years, and he had been concerned he wouldn’t be able to keep up with his opponent. He was pleasantly surprised at how well he was doing.

            “I didn’t think you’d be able to tell - you do seem to miss the obvious sometimes,” Dorian quipped.

            Cullen frowned at him. “Like what?”

            “It certainly took you long enough to realize our little bird was struggling so much with everything you were asking of her,” the mage mused, and he watched the Commander intently.

            “I can’t argue with that,” he conceded. “Might I ask – why do you call her ‘little bird?’ Why that, specifically?”

            “Because she reminds me of a poor little bird, having to learn to fly after living her whole life in a gilded cage,” Dorian answered blithely. “Although she’s been having to learn in the midst of a hurricane, it seems.”

            Cullen chuckled at the truth of that statement. “That’s a rather fair assessment.”

            “I’m incredibly grateful you finally did notice, though,” the Tevinter continued. “She already seems to be perking up and it’s only been a week of imposed rest.”

            “Yes, I’ve noticed that, too,” he agreed. Over the last few days, he had noticed the bags had nearly disappeared from under her eyes, and her smile had come more easily and more frequently.

            “Do you still intend to keep her under your watchful eye for the whole month?”

            “Unless something incredibly urgent comes up,” Cullen pondered the board as he answered.

            “And how frequently are you intending to, ah, check on her?” the Tevinter’s tone broke Cullen’s concentration and he looked up, utterly confused. It sounded like Dorian was insinuating something, and sure enough he saw his opponent’s eyes twinkling suggestively as he watched him.

            “I’m – not sure…” Cullen began hesitantly.

            “Commander, I may be from Tevinter, but even in the Imperium the look you give her would be easily interpreted,” Dorian chuckled. “And I know I said you dislike me because of your pious Templar ways. But we both know it’s much more likely because of my close relationship with the pretty little bird you stare at so longingly when you think no one sees you.”

            Cullen was dumbfounded by the other man’s acute observation. Dorian smirked when he saw Cullen’s jaw drop in his surprise.

            “Ah, I thought so,” his opponent chuckled again. “Yes, well, if I were you I’d take this convenient opportunity you’ve given yourself and use it to your advantage.”

            “Convenient opportunity?”

            “The chance to get to know her better, spend some time with her - woo her, even, while she’s here on house arrest.”

            “She’s not -”

            “It’s a joke, not another man’s cock, Commander, don’t take it so hard,” Dorian laughed. “But in all seriousness, if I may…She’s lonely. At the very least, she could use some company, and for whatever incomprehensible reason she seems to like yours. Although I’d recommend not boring her to death with talk of strategy or the best way to polish a shield if you do spend some time with her. Maybe stick with something more romantic, like flowers or how much you’d like to kiss her.”

            “It’s not appropriate,” Cullen shook his head and finally made his next move, trying to return his attention to their game.

            “I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate,” Dorian mused, still watching Cullen intently.

            “It is,” Cullen said with finality, and felt his insides twisting. He considered saying he had to return to work, without finishing the game. He wanted to get away from the other man’s inquisitive staring.

            “Well suit yourself. I think it would do the both of you some good,” Dorian sighed, and made his next move. He got a smug look on his face, like he was gloating about the move he made. Cullen looked at the board and realized it was going to be close.

            He made his move, pushing closer to checkmate, and decided to try to change the subject and distract Dorian from discussing Evelyn. “Gloat all you like, I have this one.”

            Dorian looked shocked. “Are you sassing me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

            Cullen shook his head, chuckling in exasperation as Dorian made his next move.

             “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory, because I believe this game is mine,” Dorian countered with his own mocking.

            Cullen chuckled as he evaluated the board quickly, and saw his next move. “Really? Because I believe I’ve just won.”

            Dorian stared at the board in surprise as he realized Cullen was correct. He gave an exaggerated huff and looked away, crossing his arms. “Don’t gloat, Commander, it’s unbecoming of you…”

            The Commander looked up suddenly as he noticed someone approaching from the side. “Inquisitor!” he greeted, and he began to rise.

            “Don’t stop on my account, Commander,” Evelyn said as she raised a hand, gesturing for him to resume his seat.

            “Actually, we had just finished. Thank you for the game, Commander,” Dorian said with a sigh and stood up. He stopped as he walked by Evelyn and gave her a smirk. “There’ll be no living with him now, see how smug he looks?”

            Evelyn smiled and turned to where Cullen still sat as the other man departed. “Fun game?”

            “Yes, although I should probably return to my duties,” Cullen sighed. He didn’t want to leave now that she was here. He remembered the suggestion Dorian had made, and even though the scolding voice returned and told him not to do it, he raised a questioning look to her. “Unless you would care for a game?”

            Her face lit up in a bright smile and she nodded enthusiastically. “I haven’t had a chance to play in ages,” she said as she took her seat across from him. “I played frequently with some of the Senior Enchanters or the First Enchanter, when I was at the Circle. I didn’t know you played, or maybe I would have challenged you sooner.”

            He smiled as he set up the board. “I haven’t had a chance in years, I wasn’t sure I remembered how to play. Luckily I did.”

            “When did you learn to play?” she was tracing her lips with a finger as she leaned forward and pondered the board.

            “As a child I played with my sister,” he told her, making his first move and trying to resist the distraction of her wandering finger as she thought. “She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won – which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks, trying to beat her.”

            “You have siblings?”

            “Yes, I have two sisters and a brother,” he answered.

            “So did you eventually win?” she was watching him with a small smile on her face.

            “You should have seen the look on her face,” he laughed, and felt thrilled when she joined in easily. “Do you have any siblings?”

            “I had a younger brother, Bron,” she said, and he saw her brows furrow slightly. “He was barely a year younger than me.”

            He realized she had used the past tense, and suddenly he recognized the name. _Bron always ran ahead, braver than she was, but she stood back_ ; he remembered the odd words that boy Cole had said to him. “I’m sorry, is he -”

            “He died two years ago,” she said.

            “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” He felt ashamed that he’d brought it up, but she gave a small smile.

            “It’s all right,” she said. “You had no way of knowing.”

            He focused on the game again, worried he would continually put his foot in his mouth and ruin their fun if he kept talking.

            “Are you close to your family?” she asked after a few moments staring at the board. He noticed she looked completely at ease, and even smiled at him when he raised his eyes to her face.

            “They moved to South Reach after the Blight, and between serving with the Templars and the Inqusition…I haven’t seen them in years,” he admitted. “My sister, Mia, writes, but I’m…horrible at remembering to do the same.”

            “You’ve been busy, surely she understands.”

            “As much as family can about these things,” he chuckled lightly.

            They continued their game in comfortable silence for a few moments, each focusing.

            “You know, it’s been ages since we had a conversation where we didn’t talk about the Inquisition or related matters,” he suddenly mused. “To be honest I appreciate the distraction. It’s…nice.”

            He faltered when he saw the bright smile she gave him. “We should spend more time together. I’ve missed our chats like we had at Haven.”

            Maker, he’d missed the sound of her voice. He’d missed her smile and her attentive, translucent eyes. Despite himself, despite knowing it would only lead him further into a deep pit of misguided hope, he returned her smile and said, “I’d like that.”

            “Me too,” she agreed eagerly.

            He gave a slight chuckle. “You said that,” he pointed out teasingly, and he saw her blush and look down, like she was embarrassed. She giggled. She was perfect. He felt a small root of hope take place in his chest with her words, and he didn’t try to pull it free.

            They finished their game, conversing freely about whatever they wanted or sitting in an easy silence as they played. Finally he admitted his defeat. He’d decided to play fair instead of letting her win, and he was surprised at how well she played. “Well played,” he congratulated her.

            “Thank you,” she smiled. “This was a lot of fun.”

            He stretched a little. He should get back to work, he knew. He was sure the reports were piling up. But she was still smiling, her elbows leaning on the table as she looked at him with her chin in her hand, at the edge of her seat and just so beautiful it took his breath away. He remembered Dorian’s suggestion, remembered when he said she was lonely, needed company, and enjoyed his. He warred with himself for a moment.

            “I should get back to work, unless…would you like to play again?”

            His heart soared when she immediately agreed.

 


	25. Relief

            “Inquisitor, may I have a moment of your time?” her Ambassador called to her when she passed the open office door. She halted in her step and poked her head into the open door.

            “Of course, Ambassador, how can I help?” she answered. Josephine offered her the seat across from her desk, and she walked over to comply.

            “I had a matter I’d like your opinion on,” Josephine began. “We have received missives from several of your relatives, and people claiming to be relatives, and I was wondering how you would like for us to respond. To those who are not actually your family, we will obviously try to put a stop to them claiming kinship to the Inquisitor. However, to your actual family…Are they potential allies? Should we reach out to them?”

            “If they are offering aid, I can’t see why not,” Evelyn answered after mulling it over for a moment. “The Trevelyans are a devout line, and I’m sure they would be more than happy to help the holy Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste.”

            “Very well, I’ll take that under advisement,” Josephine nodded and began scribbling hurriedly with her quill. “There is another matter – your immediate family, would they…would they also assist us? I realize I am unsure of your relationship with them, and I wanted to be sure I did not overstep my boundaries if I reached out to them, considering.”

            “You mean since I’m a mage,” Evelyn surmised; Josephine gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle and nodded acknowledgment of her observation. “Well, only my father is left. We’re not on bad terms, but we haven’t spoken since…not since I left for the Circle. He is a good man, with many able men sworn to him. If you appeal to him for aid, I’m almost certain he would assist in any way he could.”

            Josephine nodded and jotted some more notes. “Thank you, Inquisitor, that is very helpful. I am sorry if it was impertinent or painful for me to bring it up.”

            “It’s fine, Josephine. No harm done,” Evelyn said with a reassuring smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

            “No, Inquisitor, that is all.”

            Evelyn stood and left the office, wandering through the keep and out onto the battlements. She began to make her way toward Cullen’s office despite herself. She knew he’d probably refuse, would probably claim to be too busy, but she decided to see if he’d play a game of chess with her. He’d seemed so relaxed and carefree when they had played a few days before. She found herself hoping this could be her way to help him take a break and forget some of his stressful duties, however temporary the relief.

            She reached his office and opened the door without knocking, just as she had been for the last two weeks after discovering where it was. When she opened the door she saw him leaning over his desk, staring at a small wooden box that sat open before him. She couldn’t see what was in it, but she saw a small telltale glow of blue emanating from it.

            “Is that – lyrium?” she questioned, forgetting the reason she’d entered his office in the first place. His head snapped up and he stared at her blankly for a moment. She felt like she’d intruded.

            “I – ah, yes, it is,” he answered, and he straightened and took a few steps back from his desk. “Is there something I can do for you, Inquisitor?”

            His tone gave her pause; he sounded distracted, distant. “No, not really, I just wanted to see if you wanted to play a game of chess,” she said as she hesitantly approached his desk. “Commander, is everything all right?”

            Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples. Again. She frowned and crossed her arms as she watched him do it. She resolved herself to get to the bottom of it. “Cullen?” she prompted him again.

            “There’s something I need to tell you, something I haven’t known how to tell you,” he sighed and lowered his hand from his temples so he could look at her. “I’m not sure how much you know about Templars. I know we discussed how I became one, but not much about their abilities.”

            She nodded, and stayed silent as she waited for him to continue.

            “I told you that Templars receive their first draught of lyrium after their vigil, when they take on full responsibilities. Lyrium grants Templars our abilities but it controls them as well. Those cut off suffer – some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here. But I -” he hesitated. He took a breath. “I no longer take it. When I joined the Inquisition, I stopped. It’s been months – actually, over a year, now.”

            Evelyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “But Cullen, you…” she trailed off, staring at him as understanding dawned on her. “Are you in terrible pain?”

            “I can endure it,” he said resolutely.

            “Your headaches, the way your hands shake…is this why?”

            “Yes,” he admitted.

            “Cullen, if this can kill you -” Evelyn began.

            “It hasn’t yet,” he interjected. “After what happened in Kirkwall I couldn’t…I will not be bound to the Order – or that life – any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to…watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

            She stared at him for a moment, wondering at the way he was looking at her, expectantly, as though he worried at her reaction. “Thank you for telling me, Cullen,” she gave him a small smile. “You’re very brave. I respect what you’re trying to do.”

            “I -” he hesitated and gave a slight quirk of his mouth, as though he wanted to smile. “Thank you for understanding.”

            Evelyn walked around the desk to stand beside him and inspected the wooden box, seeing that it indeed contained a small vial of lyrium. She reached over and closed the lid, then looked up at him and gave a nod. A sudden urge came over her, but she realized she needed to broach the subject cautiously. “Will you let me help you?”

            “Help me?”

            “With the pain,” she explained. “I may be able to help.”

            “I’ve tried potions, Elftroot poultices, but nothing works,” he shrugged sadly.

            “No, that’s not what I mean,” she paused, thinking carefully of how best to offer. She decided a direct and honest approach was the best path. “I may be able to help you with my magic.”

            He looked thoroughly shocked. “I…”

            “It’s completely safe, I’ve done it many times before,” she quickly assured him. He shook his head slightly and continued to stare at her, and she noticed he looked almost ashamed.

            “I’m not sure, I…” he folded his arms. “What would you do?”

            “I can make it cold, it helps with the pain. And my energy, my lightning, if I do it softly, just a little bit, I – I don’t quite know how to describe it, but it vibrates. It would feel like a massage, help with the tension.”

            He stood staring at her in silence, looking positively conflicted.

 

* * *

  

            Cullen had never actually considered letting a mage use magic on him before; he had frequently refused healing when offered. Magic had only ever been used against him to inflict pain, to torture, to control…He felt his heart racing as he remembered. But he looked at the woman standing before him, the soft, expectant smile on her face, and he remembered another time she had used magic. When she had protected him. Surely if she ever meant him harm, she would have already acted upon it. Even that day in the courtyard, when she had raised her voice and he felt her magic make the air hum and crackle around them, she had actively worked to calm herself. It had been obvious to him, the way that she instantly refocused herself, the way she stepped back and took a deep, meditative breath so the humming had immediately died. She had even apologized for it later.

            He chalked it up to mental strength and a determination to change his ways that he slowly nodded his consent. He was striving to be better, to make up for the mistakes of his past. That included trusting her now, and letting her prove to him that all mages weren’t the same. He owed her, and himself, this opportunity.

            Evelyn gave him a bright smile and motioned for him to sit. He took his seat, trying to steady his nerves. He was willing to try, but he still felt anxiety and doubt wash over him and he gripped the arms of his chair tightly. The feelings increased when she sat on the edge of the desk in front of him and put her dainty feet on his knees to steady herself before him. His heart sped up even more, and he took a deep breath as she leaned close. She sat rubbing her index and middle fingers against her thumbs on both hands, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she concentrated. She was moving slowly, cautiously, obviously trying not to worry him.

            “It’s going to be cold at first, but not unpleasant,” she explained. “Tell me if it hurts or if you’d like for me to stop, at any time.”

            He nodded but found his words fail him. He was too tangled up in emotions to trust his voice. She continued rubbing her fingers for a moment more, and he looked up, realizing she was waiting for him to tell her he was ready. He gave another jerky nod.

            Evelyn slowly reached out to him and gently placed two fingers on each of his temples. The feeling was immediate, as though she were holding ice cubes against him, but also under his skin as well. He felt small beads of cold water run down his cheeks as she began to massage his temples with a steady, soothing pressure. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as he felt relief spread through his throbbing head.

            “Is this all right?” she asked.

            “Yes,” he breathed, his eyes still closed.

            “I’m going to use my energy now, if that’s all right,” she murmured. She was sitting so close to him he could smell the rain that always clung to her. He nodded his consent. She shifted her fingers and placed her thumbs on his cheekbones, keeping her middle and index placed on his temples. He felt a tingling, a vibration, an indescribable feeling just as she’d said. It felt like she was individually massaging every muscle fiber, every nerve, and he felt the throbbing pain disappearing as she continued her slow massage.

            It was the first relief he’d felt in over a year, the first time he hadn’t been in constant pain. He gave a small involuntary moan, and she instantly removed her fingers at the sound. “Did I hurt you?” He heard the concern in her tone and opened his eyes to look up at her.

            “No, no,” he sighed. “I’m sorry it’s just…it’s wonderful. It’s helping.”

            She smiled at him, looking relieved. “Would you like for me to continue?”

            “Maker’s breath, yes.”

            Evelyn placed her fingers back on him, gently making it cold and then tingly in turns, rubbing him with her fingers as she continued her careful ministrations.

            “How did you learn to do this?” he finally asked, opening his eyes and looking into her face. He was surprised to see how close she was, and he took the opportunity to examine the tiny details of her face and her eyes that he’d never noticed. She had a few freckles across her nose which he’d never seen before now.

            “I told you about my brother, Bron,” she murmured, still focusing on her work as she spoke. Her voice was low and soothing as she spoke, and he felt himself lulled peacefully by it. “He was a sickly child. But he was brave, and adventurous, and we were very close. Whenever he came down with his pains from his sickness, he wouldn’t be able to play any longer, for days or weeks at a time. It made me sad, so I would sit with him. I wanted desperately for him to feel better, so I’d rub his forehead, try to help in whatever way I could. And one day, it started working.”

            “When your magic showed itself?”

            “Mmhmm,” she hummed, continuing her massaging with a soft smile on her face. “I didn’t realize that was what it was, I just knew that I made his pain go away and we could play again. It stayed secret for months, because we were so innocent and we didn’t think anything of it. Finally he asked me to do it when my father happened to be in the room with us. My father saw what I did and immediately recognized that it was magic.”

            “Was he angry?”

            She gently shook her head. “No, he was surprised. But he was a devout man, and even though I could help his son, he couldn’t deny that I needed to go to the Circle. Some of the servants had seen, had found out, and he worried what may happen to me if I stayed. The Templars came a few days later.”

            “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. He realized he truly meant it.

            “I didn’t realize for a long time that the Circle was for life; I was too young. They told me they were sending me to school, that I was special and I could go somewhere special to learn how to do more with my magic. I was happy to go. I thought maybe I could learn to cure Bron.”

            “And when you realized it was for life?”

            “By then I understood. The Circle kept me safe, too, from those who would harm me for the things I could do, the way I was born. I accepted it, though I did feel sad and trapped at times. It made me restless, so I threw myself into my studies as a distraction. I wanted to learn everything.”

            “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a story like yours,” he mused. “Almost every mage I’ve known felt traumatized by their experiences. All of them with good reason, of course. But it’s so odd to hear you speak of it all so easily.”

            “There were parts that upset me, like how I have a deep hatred of being watched. The Templars were always so cold, their gaze haunted me as it followed me everywhere I went. It was like they saw me as something else, something other than a person, never giving me a moment’s peace for thirteen years. There were times that I struggled to accept my fate,” she sighed. “And there still are, apparently, considering how quick I was to assume you wanted to keep me under lock and key, when we fought…”

            He closed his eyes again, momentarily unable to speak as the continued relief of her tending overwhelmed him. Peace as he hadn’t known in months, years even, swept over him. He removed his hands from where they had rested on the arms of his chair and rested them on her feet, stroking them gratefully through her boots as he relaxed. He even ignored the feelings her thoughts on Templars stirred in him, the memories of how years ago those words could have described him as well. Instead he remembered more of the words that boy Cole had said to him and his brows quirked a bit as he did. _He’s so warm, not like the others, the cold ones who always watched me._

            “Are you still all right?” she asked softly, and he wondered if she’d seen him frown as he recalled the words.

            “Yes, in fact - I’m more than all right. I can finally feel something other than pain. I’d forgotten what that was like.” His voice was slow, sleepy; he felt as though he was close to drifting off.

            “I wish you’d told me,” she gently reproached him. “I could have helped you that much sooner. Maybe we wouldn’t have fought. Your withdrawal is almost certainly the cause of your quick temper.”

            He chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry.”

            “You only need to apologize to yourself,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “You’re the one you’re hurting most of all.”

            Cullen reached up and lightly gripped her wrists, pulling her fingers away from his temples. He felt as though he was going to fall asleep, and as much as he didn’t want her to stop he knew he had to get back to work. He was relieved to feel his pain didn’t immediately return. His head felt clearer than it had in a long time.

            “Thank you, Evelyn,” he murmured, and he slid his hands from her wrists to her hands, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Words can’t describe how grateful I am.”

            “Thank you for trusting me,” she gave him a smile that took his breath away. “Please, in the future, just ask and I’ll help you. It’s no trouble, and I’d rather sit and help you a few moments a day than have you trying to lead the Inquisition’s forces in agony.”

            He gave a nod and squeezed her fingers one last time before he let her go. “I promise, I’ll try.”


	26. A Spark

            The burning question had kept her awake, tossing and turning all night. It was the first night of restless sleep she’d had since she’d begun her imposed period of rest at Skyhold. She kept turning over the events of the day, feeling hope and doubt chase each other across her mind.

            With a sigh, Evelyn finally pushed back the sheets that covered her vast bed and rose with the sun. She brushed her hair but left it loose as had been her habit the last two weeks, and then dressed herself in the outfit Josephine had had made for her. The Ambassador had insisted on the rich leather, deep blue cloth, and elegantly tailored fit of the pieces in an attempt to impress upon their visiting dignitaries the seriousness of the Inquisitor’s title. It made Evelyn feel exposed, since it more easily identified her as the Inquisitor. Most days she just wanted to pass by in peace without the stares and the bows. They were giving her this time to rest, though, and so she wore the outfit anyway, since it was her duty as Inquisitor when she was at Skyhold.

            She wandered the grounds after a simple breakfast in the kitchens, and she took time to stop in the infirmary to check on the wounded. After helping the healers for a while, she made her way to the library where she found Dorian reading. They passed some time chatting, and he told her about the leads he was still trying to follow to help identify Corypheus. She asked him how he was feeling now that they had received the news of Felix’s passing, and he gently squeezed her hand to thank her for her concern. He told her to join him later for a drink at the tavern. The barkeep had finally received his shipment of wine that he’d been promising for weeks and he wanted her to try some.

            Evelyn agreed and then left the library to take a stroll on the battlements, exiting the tower out onto the bridge that led to Cullen’s office. She hesitated, realizing she would have to cut through the Commander’s office to continue onto the battlements. She bit her lip as she considered; the opportunity had presented itself and she decided to seize it. Despite the ease with which they had been spending time with each other these last two weeks, Evelyn found her heart racing as she determined to ask him the question that had plagued her sleep. She decided that not knowing felt worse than being disappointed; at least once she knew for sure she could figure out if she needed to bury her feelings.

            She walked briskly across the bridge and hesitated before his door. Should she knock? It was almost midday, and she had frequently visited him here without knocking, no matter the time of day. Her nerves about her question made her doubt herself, though. She took a deep breath before resolving to simply open the door as she always did.

            Cullen was bent over his desk, absorbed in the reports before him, his hands braced on top of the small table. It took him a moment to realize she was there, and he slowly raised his gaze. He looked annoyed before he saw who it was, no doubt thinking she was another soldier or scout interrupting his work. But when he saw her he smiled. “Evelyn,” he greeted her. “Do you need something?”

            “Erm…” she hesitated, biting her bottom lip and taking a steadying breath. She considered just asking it straight away but panicked under his golden gaze, and she decided to ask him a different question instead, as though this was why she had visited. “How are you feeling today?”

            He gave her a broad smile. “Much better, still, thank you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Were you coming to check on your patient?”

            She gave a small chuckle. “No, actually I…” Again she panicked, and gestured suddenly at the door that led to the battlements. “I was wondering if you cared to join me for a walk.”

            He frowned. “A walk?”

            “You could use a break,” she suggested weakly. He stared at her and rubbed the back of his neck, considering. Finally he gave a small laugh.

            “I suppose you’re right, I could,” he agreed, and he moved around the desk to open the door, allowing her to precede him.

            They fell into step with one another, Evelyn looking over the battlements as she tried to decide how to broach the subject. Cullen glanced at her occasionally, and then he took to rubbing his neck again, looking around them as they strolled along. She tried her best to steel her nerves, to work up the courage she needed. She conjured the image of the way he had looked at her the day before, again hoping that she had seen more than gratitude in his eyes. But her doubt told her she was fooling herself. She was unsure and uneasy; she’d never done anything like this. She’d never felt this way before. It was unfamiliar, extraordinarily new and intimidating.

            “It’s uh – nice out, today,” he finally murmured beside her. She was so lost in thought it took her a moment to realize he had spoken.

            “What?” she said, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him as he halted as well.

            “You look like you want to discuss something,” he said, staring at her intently.

            Now was her opening.

            “I just – well,” she took a deep breath, and fixed her eyes on him. The words came pouring out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Cullen, I can’t help but wonder, could you – could you ever care for a mage?”

 

* * *

 

             He felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out from under him as he stared at her. She was watching him intently, her bright eyes sparkling as she waited for him to answer her. He could see the anxious eagerness on her face, and she gently tugged her bottom lip between her teeth.

            “I, ah -” Cullen hesitated, doubting himself and wondering if he was reading too much into the question, too much into the look in her eyes. He tried not to let himself dare to hope, but the small root that had taken hold in his chest the day they played chess seemed to grow. “Yes, I could,” he finally breathed. “In fact I -” but he cut off that particular admission in case he was misinterpreting her meaning.

            A small smile of relief played at the corner of her lips. Or was he imagining it?

            “I - I just wanted to know, because you see, I -” she stopped, her clear eyes filled with such intensity his breath caught in his throat. “I care about you, Cullen, and I just – you're a former Templar, and after Kirkwall, and I’m a mage…I just worried you might not…”

            Her words echoed in his mind as she trailed off. _I care about you, Cullen_. He took a step closer to her, staring into her eyes as a blush spread across her cheeks.

            “Maker’s breath, no, I don’t think about that when I think of you,” he murmured. He was surprised at the truth of those words. He was so close to her now she had to crane her neck to look up into his face. “In fact I’ve often thought about what I might do, what I might say in this sort of situation, alone with you…”

            Cullen trailed off, still holding her gaze. She was leaning against the battlements, her eyes wide as she waited. The scolding voice inside of him told him to stop, reminded him of who she was, what he had vowed, how unworthy he was. But her lips were parted slightly, and she was staring at him so attentively.

            “Then what’s stopping you now?” she prompted him softly.

            The scolding voice in his head became louder and he looked away from her, shaking his head. It felt like his mind was full of cobwebs and he was having difficulty clearing it. “You’re the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor…we’re at war, and I’m…” he didn’t finish that thought out loud, but the voice mocked him with its last words. _Unworthy of you_. Her lips were still parted, glistening like she had licked them with her tongue, as though in anticipation of something. The thought drove him nearly mad, and the voice that mocked him was finally drowned out by the hope that had now rooted itself firmly within him.

            His hands were on either side of her, resting on the stone she leaned against. He was lowering his face, and he saw her eyelids flutter shut as he got closer.

            “Commander, I have the reports from Sister Leliana that you asked to be delivered right away,” a voice called from behind him, and he froze, mere inches from her lips. Annoyance and fury coursed through him, and he gritted his teeth, trying not to yell at the approaching scout. He reluctantly turned away from Evelyn, his fists clenching as he took a step toward the man.

            “What?” he growled, and the scout finally raised his eyes from the parchment he held. Cullen watched as the scout took in the Commander’s scowl and then looked past him to where the Inquisitor stood. A shocked look came upon the young man’s face and he turned beet red.

            “Or…I can deliver it to your office, to your desk...” the scout stuttered, and he turned to make a hasty retreat from the Commander. Cullen stood watching him leave, making sure he didn’t turn back.

            “Cullen, if you need to -” Evelyn’s voice came from behind him, but he spun around and closed the distance between them in one long stride, pushing her roughly back against the stone as he impatiently pressed his lips to hers, muffling her surprised gasp.

            He twisted his mouth against hers, gently tugged her bottom lip and then her top between his lips in turn, gently encouraging her mouth open with his own. Tentatively he slid his tongue between her lips, seeking hers out, longing to taste her. She met his tongue hesitantly, seeming unsure of herself; but after a few soft touches she let it glide against his, responding to his slow rhythm. She tasted sweet, reminding him of a sugary roll his mother used to make. He eagerly deepened the kiss, wanting more of the taste. He held her cheeks in his gloved hands and he slid one hand into her loose hair, holding the back of her head as he wove his fingers through her silky strands.

            Evelyn gave a soft moan against his lips, and it coursed through him like an electric shock. He longed to reach down and caress her, but her moan brought him to his senses and he pulled his lips away, still holding her face in his hands. She stared up at him, her eyes half-lidded with desire, looking like she couldn’t figure out why he had stopped. They were both breathing heavily, and as he gradually felt the fog fleeing his mind the full realization of what he had just allowed himself to do hit him.

            “Maker, Evelyn – I’m so sorry, I -” he breathed as he struggled to find the words to describe his blunder, the vow that he had just broken.

            “You don’t regret it, do you?” she questioned, and it tore at him that she almost sounded hurt, as though she thought he was rejecting her.

            He didn’t regret it. Not even a little bit. He tried to summon the scolding voice to chide him about being unworthy, to tell him that he needed to throw himself before her and beg forgiveness. He should never touch her like this, never dare to kiss her as he just had. But the voice had fallen silent at the look in her eyes. He ran his gloved thumb over her lips as he thought.

            “No, I don’t regret it. But I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t kiss you like this,” he confessed.

            Her brow furrowed as she took in his words. “What do you mean?”

            He opened his mouth, ready to tell her how despicable he was for wanting her, how he should be the last person she allowed to touch her. How he wasn’t even worthy of the tenderness she had shown him the day before when she had eased his aching head. But the words died in his throat as he looked at her. “We’re on the battlements, anyone could see us,” he said instead.

            Evelyn stood on her tiptoes; she was straining to reach up to him, her hands resting on his biceps, fingers tightening as she raised herself up to his substantial height. She was trying to kiss him.

            _Maker, forgive me_ , he thought as he lowered himself to her again with a small groan of despair and longing. _I am just a man_.

            Cullen tried to restrain himself, to kiss her delicately, but his yearning for her overwhelmed him. He had suppressed  his desire for so long, and as he felt her responding with enthusiasm against his kiss he felt his self-control slip away. His hands still held her face, and he pushed his body against hers, crushing her delicate curves against his armored chest. His mouth slanted across hers, his tongue pushing eagerly between her lips, moving against hers with impatience. He was hard, pressing painfully tight in his breeches, feeling himself becoming undone by a kiss like an inexperienced lad would. He could feel her thigh rub against him as he pushed her against the wall in his passion, and his heart raced. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it gently, and she gave another soft moan. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer to her, fingers running through the hair on the back of his head.

            He had to stop. He had to pull away before he considered leading her off to the nearest corner for more privacy. He gently tugged her arms away from his neck, trying to lift his face away from hers. She was staring up at him, her eyes wide, and he pressed one last fleeting kiss to her lips before he took a step back from her. She was smiling.

            He cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. “I should, ah, get back to work,” he said lamely. She gave a soft sigh.

            “You’ve got those urgent reports from Leliana to go over,” she teased him, and he looked down at her with a chuckle.

            “Yes, I do,” he turned to begin the walk back to his office.

            “I’ll go with you.”

            They strolled along the battlements toward his office in comfortable silence. Cullen was still trying to collect himself, in slight shock at what had just happened, what he had allowed himself to do. Occasionally he glanced down at her, and he saw a lingering soft smile on her face as she looked out at the mountains that surrounded Skyhold. He had never seen her look so content.

            They reached his office and he sighed when he saw the new reports that littered his desk. He wondered if he’d be able to concentrate at all. Evelyn put her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze as she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, and on an impulse bent down to kiss her forehead. A small spark shocked him when his lips made contact with her skin, and they both jumped as they felt it.

            “Sorry, I -” she began.

            “Maker’s breath -” he said at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment and then broke into laugher.

            “Sorry,” she said again. “I’ll – I’ll let you get back to work.”

            She released his arm and turned to leave, but she hesitated and faced him with her hand on the door. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?” she asked.

            He stared at her a moment before he honestly answered, “Longer than I should admit.”


	27. Dreamy

            Evelyn moved through the afternoon as if in a daze. She nearly collided with Cassandra on the stairs, and the Seeker had detained her for a few minutes to ask if she was feeling all right. Evelyn had struggled to answer, and finally told her she was tired. She noticed the other woman frown sharply, and when they parted ways it almost looked like she was heading to Cullen’s office. She smirked to herself, wishing she could see the way the Commander responded to the Seeker’s concerns about her mood.

            Sera tried to corner her with requests to play pranks on their companions, and Evelyn found herself unable to keep up with the rapid pace of the elf’s questions and jokes. She politely excused herself and retreated to the library to look for information to help with the project she had decided to start the day before. But as she browsed the shelves looking for books that may be useful to her, her eyes glazed over and she found herself unable to read any of the titles. She shook her head a little to clear it, but only a moment later she found her eyes glaze over again as she remembered the way his hand had twisted its way into her hair as he kissed her. _Longer than I should admit._

            Evelyn’s time at the Circle had been incredibly uneventful. She was an especially gifted mage, but her school of magic and powerful affinity for it was uncommon, and her unusually colored and observant eyes had kept most people at bay. She had found she hadn’t minded, instead focusing on her studies and reading or sketching in her free time. She was fascinated by magic, the things she could do, and had wanted to learn everything she possibly could. It didn’t bother her that she didn’t really have any friends, and she rarely ever felt lonely considering the constant presence of watchful Templars. On the rare occasion she did feel lonely, she sought out the First Enchanter or Senior Enchanters for chess and conversation.

            In all of her years there, she had had a few fellow mages try to entice her into relationships. She felt nothing for any of them, and had therefore made it clear she wasn’t interested. She had the feeling they weren’t truly interested either, just treating her as a prize to win, tempted by the forbidden fruit of disobeying the Templars. The idea of a clandestine, casual relationship hadn’t appealed to her and she decided the risk wasn’t worth it for any of the men who attempted to persuade her. She had easily passed her Harrowing at a rather young age, and the Templars mostly left her alone since she had never really posed a threat. Evelyn had tried her best to keep from attracting the Templars’ attention, suffocating under their cold watchfulness enough as it was, and so she kept to herself. It earned her a reputation for being aloof, an unattainable ice queen who boringly followed all the rules imposed by the Chantry and their Templar keepers. Strangely, she wasn’t bothered by this reputation. It had made her life at the Circle much easier.

            Considering her circumstances, she hadn’t ever found it odd that she had reached the age of twenty without ever being kissed. She had never considered what she expected or what she would want out of a first kiss. Now that it had happened she realized that if she had been able to choose beforehand how it would go, she would have wanted it to be exactly the same. Her lips were still tingling at the memory, and she couldn’t focus on anything around her as she bit her bottom lip in the same place he had.

            “Are you stuck in the Fade or something, my dear?” she heard a voice say rather loudly from her left. With a start she turned and saw Dorian beside her, leaning casually against the bookshelf she had been staring at as she reminisced. “Ah, welcome back.”

            “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” she murmured sheepishly.

            “Apparently, since that was the third time I tried to get your attention,” her friend sighed. “Is everything all right, little bird? You seem farther away than normal.”

            She gave a huge grin despite herself. “Everything’s wonderful. I was just thinking about something, that’s all.”

            He raised an eyebrow at her and his lips twitched in a curious smirk. “Yes, well, I’ll be sure to ask you about that later, after you’ve had some wine,” he quipped as he reached down and took her hand. “Speaking of, come along. We had a date, remember?”

            Evelyn knew it was pointless to say she needed to stay in the library to work. She knew that he wouldn’t listen but also that she wouldn’t be able to focus even if she stayed. And so she let Dorian lead her through the keep and across the dusky courtyard to the tavern. Upon entering Dorian glanced around for a few moments before he finally saw what he was looking for. He gave her a smile and pulled her behind him toward a table occupied by Iron Bull and Varric.

            “I hope you haven’t already finished all of the wine, you two. Our dear Inquisitor looks in need of a drink this evening,” Dorian quipped. He took his seat beside Bull as Evelyn sat beside Varric. She noticed the dwarf giving her a quizzical look and actively avoided his gaze. Somehow she felt like he’d be able to get it out of her in a heartbeat.

            “Here, drink this quickly so I can start interrogating you about your dreamy look in the library,” Dorian said as he passed her a goblet full of deep red wine.

            “That’s exactly the word I was going to use,” Varric agreed, nodding thoughtfully as he looked at Evelyn. “What’s got you in such a good mood, Sparkles?”

            Evelyn felt herself blush and she quickly took a big gulp of wine. She tried desperately to think of a good excuse, and lamely said, “I remembered my birthday is coming up, and I actually have friends to spend it with this year.”

            “Your birthday? When is it?” Varric asked, looking delighted at this piece of information. Dorian didn’t look as convinced across the table but didn’t press the matter for the moment.

            It wasn’t a lie; she had realized her birthday was the following week and she would still be at Skyhold for rest. She told Varric the date and he rubbed his hands together, positively gleeful. “We need to do something for you, even if it’s just a game of Wicked Grace or a night with everyone here at the tavern. It’s not every day our little Sparkles turns fifteen.”

            “Twenty-one,” she protested but the other three just laughed at her.

            “Glass is empty, Boss, here have another,” Bull said and he reached over and refilled her goblet even though it was only half-empty. She saw him give a nod and a small wink at Dorian and she realized he was helping the other man try to ply her for the real cause behind her dreamy smile. She decided to try to turn the tables and distract them.

            “I’m surprised you two drink together so often, aren’t you concerned it could be dangerous? After all the Qunari and Tevinter are still at war, aren’t they? What if you suddenly decide to try to settle the whole matter here, just the two of you?” she mused as she took a small sip of wine.

            “Oh, we hate each other, as is expected of us,” Dorian laughed. “But The Iron Bull is good at scaring off soldiers who might get too eager and try to drink all of my hard earned alcohol or get too handsy for my tastes.”

            “That and this ‘Vint is one of the only people who can match me drink for drink. I can forgive him for being on the losing side of the war for that,” Bull chuckled. Dorian feigned offense and Bull clapped him on the back. Evelyn’s brow quirked, watching the way the two of them shot glances at each other as they laughed. She felt curious but didn’t bring it up; she worried any speculation she made would just be directed back at her and her distracted attitude from earlier.

            “So little bird, feeling ready to share? Or do I need to wait a little longer?” Dorian asked suddenly, and she was so caught off guard she choked on her wine.

            “It’s definitely something, with that reaction,” Varric laughed as he patted her on the back.

            “And none of this ‘oh I’m just rested’ or ‘oh I conveniently remembered my birthday is next week’ business,” Dorian wagged a finger in front of her as he mimicked her voice.

            “Nothing, really, I just -” she tried to answer but the smile spread across her face again as much as she wanted to stop it. The other three at the table began to howl with laughter.

            “Come on, Boss, it’s good to see you this happy,” Bull told her. “We just want to know what it is so maybe we can remind you of it the next time you have a rough day.”

            She scrunched her nose playfully at him and turned her focus on her goblet, not trusting herself or her reactions. She kept giving it away when she smiled at the memory.

            “Hmm…it’s not something to do with Curly, is it?” Varric prompted.

            “Curly?” she asked, confused.

            “Our charming, brooding Commander,” Dorian answered.

            “Yeah, Curly, you know –his hair looks like he spends too much time trying to get it to stay that way,” Varric chuckled. “But don’t avoid the question, Sparkles.”

            Evelyn felt the heat come to her cheeks as she tried to keep her face neutral. It was useless.

            “Ah-ha!” Dorian cried triumphantly. “I knew it. I knew it had to be something like that.”

            Her companions laughed gleefully at her, and her face burned even more. She gulped down more of her wine to try to hide her embarrassment.

            “Well, it’s nice to know the Commander is able to listen to advice,” Dorian finally said when he had stopped laughing. “I was worried he was going to be too stubborn and proud to take advice from a ‘Vint.”

            “What?” Evelyn asked, thoroughly surprised. “Did you speak to him?”

            Dorian wiggled his eyebrows at her mischievously. “It’s amazing the things you can get out of someone by throwing a simple game of chess.”

 

 

            Evelyn left the tavern alone, feeling warm and contented. Varric had left a while ago, grumbling about issues with the Merchant’s Guild, and Dorian and Iron Bull were remaining to drink together. She had decided to call it a night and try to get some sleep. The previous restless night she’d had as she wondered if Cullen felt the same way felt like a lifetime ago. Still, she had found herself stifling yawns as she listened to Dorian and Bull playfully argue about the Imperium and the Qun.

            The courtyard was chilly, but after the crowded tavern it felt refreshing and she took a moment to look above her and gaze at the sky. Her renewed daydreams were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned, hopeful, and found the one she’d been thinking about standing only a few paces away by the stairs to the battlements.

            “Evelyn, what are you doing out so late?” he asked, and took a few hesitant steps toward her.

            “I was at the tavern with Dorian,” she smiled, looking up into his face. She noticed him frowning and she mirrored it. “Are you all right, Cullen?”

            “I -” he hesitated, and she saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way he flexed his hand.

            “Are you in pain again?” she asked. He closed his eyes and nodded, an odd look like shame on his face.

            “I was trying to take a walk, I thought it might help,” he muttered. He still looked away from her, and she wondered if he was embarrassed she had caught him in pain again.

            “I’m glad I’m still up, then,” she reached and took his hand, leading him back to the stairs behind him. He walked behind her slowly, like he was resigned to what was happening, but she gently squeezed his hand to reassure him. She sat him on one of the steps and took a seat on a step behind him so she could more easily match his height as they faced each other. She rubbed her fingers together as she always did, focusing inward and imagining snow and ice coming to her fingertips. “May I?” she asked, still wanting to let him know he could control how this went.

            He gave a jerky nod, his eyes still closed, his brow furrowed deeply in his pain. She softly reached up and touched his temples, focusing on channeling the minor ice spell she held at her fingers onto his skin. She massaged gently, pressing more firmly when she saw the tension in his brows begin to release. He let his breath out slowly, and she gave a small smile. “I’m going to add my energy now,” she told him, and again he gave a brief nod.

            She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing closely on the feeling. She was concerned that the wine had dulled her senses, but found she didn’t need to worry as her practiced hands acted from years of memory. She had learned to do this for Bron without meaning to, but she had practiced on herself at the Circle, still believing for years that she would go back one day to help heal him. When the First Enchanter had discovered what she could do, she had occasionally requested help with her migraines. Evelyn felt grateful now that she had kept the skill sharp as she watched Cullen’s face relax and his breathing deepen.

            They continued in peaceful silence. Evelyn greedily observed his face this close to hers in the moonlight, and found herself wondering if he would kiss her again. He reached over to her knees and placed his hands on them, squeezing gently. Her heart was racing and she had to work harder to focus on her task, becoming easily distracted by the memories of that afternoon. He gave a sudden deep moan that sent a shiver through her and her heart jumped into a frantic overdrive. She pulled her fingers away from him and tried to steady herself. As she had the day before, she tried to pretend she was worried she had hurt him to hide the real reason she had stopped. “Are you all right, was that too much?”

            “No, Evelyn,” he breathed, and his hands tightened on her knees. “Please, keep going, please – Maker’s breath,” he sighed as she resumed her touch. She bit her lip to try to keep herself focused. She was flushed, her cheeks burning and an unfamiliar yearning feeling began within her.

            He opened his eyes finally to look at her, and his gaze wandered over her face curiously. She couldn’t tell if he could see the way she was blushing, but it seemed like he might have guessed where her mind had wandered from the way the look on his face changed. He reached up and pulled her hands from his temples and slid her arms to his neck, pulling her closer as he did.

            Evelyn closed her eyes, eagerly anticipating his kiss with her lips parted. Cullen’s touch was soft, his lips moving slowly over her own. It was a languid kiss, as though he was half-asleep, as though he was trying to convey his deep gratitude to her with his tongue. Despite its leisurely rhythm, Evelyn found her breath coming to her in gasps, pants that he quickly stole with his mouth moving hungry and unhurried against her own. One hand was on her jaw, one splayed on her back as he pulled her closer to him. The deep yearning within her intensified and she felt herself moaning at the sensation it created in her.

            Cullen stopped suddenly and pulled away from her, staring down with a look in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat. She couldn’t look away if she’d wanted to; his eyes seemed to command her to look at him. He removed the hand from her cheek and put one of his fingertips in his mouth, tugging his glove off with his teeth as he held her gaze. He set the glove in his lap and placed his bare hand on her cheek, gently stroking her with his thumb as his eyes wandered over her face. His palm was calloused, his skin hot and rough against her cheek. She let out a shaky sigh as she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his thumb running over her lips.

            “You tingle,” he murmured, and the deeper, huskier tone of his voice sent another shiver racing down her spine. “Everywhere I touch you, you make my skin tingle. I felt your lips on me all day.”

            She let out a soft whimper at the sensation that ran through her when she heard him say those words, and he responded by pressing his lips against hers, his hand sliding to cup her face and then slipping into her hair and twisting his ungloved fingers into its silky strands. This kiss was more intense than the last, and she felt herself struggling a bit to keep up with the sudden onslaught of his passion. She felt warm, her breasts suddenly feeling too tight and sensitive against her smallclothes, her nerves in overdrive as she felt a throbbing begin between her legs. She slipped her hand into the hair on the back of his head, running her fingers through the soft waves and curls as she moaned against his eager lips.

            And then he was pulling away again, winded as if he were trying to catch his breath after running. She looked up at him, sad to see him trying to calm himself. She hadn’t wanted the kiss to ever end, and he had stopped too soon, just as he had that afternoon. He stared into her eyes for a moment before he lowered his lips to her forehead and pressed a tender, intimate kiss against her skin. “Thank you,” he murmured against the top of her head. She wondered if he was thanking her for her help or the kiss.


	28. Stolen Moments

            Cullen felt positively lazy after getting two nights in a row of more than five hours of sleep. It had been more months than he could recall since he’d been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time, and he now felt so rested he almost felt lethargic. Evelyn’s careful ministrations to ease his pain seemed to last for several hours after she performed them, the pain at least dulled enough that he could focus more easily and rest more peacefully.

            He lay in his bed, looking up through the hole in his ceiling as he remembered the night before. The pain had held at bay most of the day, but had come rushing back excruciatingly as he pored over the reports that pertained to Samson. It always seemed to get worse when he thought about his past, whether at Calenhad or Kirkwall. He had tried to persevere, determined to endure it and focus on what the report said, but it had gotten so intense he had decided to take a walk in the chilly night air. It was as if he wanted the cold night air to mimic the feeling of her icy touch on his temples, though he knew it would be a poor substitute. He hadn’t expected to see Evelyn, though he had secretly hoped he would as he exited his office. He hadn’t expected to melt under her smile and accept her help once he saw her, either. It had been a nice respite after the first time she used her magic, but he had tried to resolve himself to not ask for her help again. She wasn’t going to be at Skyhold forever, and he needed to continue to deal with the pain on his own as he had for over a year.

            She had so quickly understood his tone, so quickly offered her care that he couldn’t refuse it. Cullen had felt overcome with the sensation of overwhelming relief tangling with his lustful memories of her lips on his until he couldn’t fight the feeling. He hadn’t meant to kiss her; he’d tried to resolve himself to resist that again as well. But she had been sitting so close, and he noticed her breath was shaky as it had been after he kissed her the first time. Like she had been thinking about it, too. He hadn’t been able to resist the urge.

            The scolding voice had returned the previous afternoon, chiding and shaming him for the bold way he had kissed her on the battlements. He felt positively blasphemous for the way he had held her, the way he had kissed her as though he would try to taste every inch of her. He thought back to the way she had moaned against him and the scolding voice tried to tell him how wrong it was, how he didn’t deserve to hear her make that noise. He certainly wasn’t worthy of hearing the whimper she had made when he confessed he’d felt her lips on him all day after he’d kissed her. He felt ashamed of himself for how much he enjoyed it, how much he’d wanted to hear it again, and how it made him feel like he didn’t want to stop.

            Cullen needed to focus himself. He needed to remember his vow. He was unworthy of being more than her support, the one to carry her through everything she faced as she in turn carried all of Thedas on her shoulders. He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the images of her parted lips that his mind seemed intent to focus on. She had said she cared about him, but he was fearful of how quickly that would disappear if she knew the truth about who he had been, all of the things he had done. He couldn’t bear to think about that and his head gave a slight twinge of pain. He sighed heavily and swung his legs off his bed, determined to throw himself into his work and forget about it.

 

 

            It was midday when his door opened and he looked up to see her peek her head in, an intoxicating smile on her face. She looked around the office and when she saw he was alone she entered and walked toward his desk.

            “Are you busy?” she asked, lightly fingering the wood at the edge of his desk.

            He cleared his throat and looked around, trying to think of an excuse. He couldn’t, and he found he didn’t want to try to anymore. Not when he saw her smiling at him like that. “Not at present.”

            She giggled and began to walk around the desk to where he sat, but the door opened suddenly behind them. A scout poked his head in and immediately announced, “Commander, Sister Leliana was hoping she might have a word about the reports coming out of the Emerald Graves.”

            Cullen sighed. “Tell her I’ll be there momentarily,” he said as he stood. The scout closed the door and Evelyn immediately continued her approach. Just as she had nearly reached him, the door opened again and the scout poked his head back in.

            “Oh, she also requested your report on Samson’s -”

            “Damn it, man, just come into the room and wait, I’ll go with you,” Cullen growled out. Evelyn gave him a playful pout as the scout stepped hesitantly into the office. Cullen leaned toward her carefully and whispered, “Wait for me, out to the right,” as he began shuffling papers on his desk to hide his words from the scout. She gave a nod to excuse herself and departed out the right door to the battlements.

            The Commander grabbed a report off his desk and gestured for the scout to precede him. As soon as he left out the middle of his office doors, he looked at the parchment in his hands and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I forgot a page. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” The scout nodded and Cullen returned to his office, quickly exiting out the door Evelyn had left through. She was leaning over the ramparts, looking out at the mountains, but she looked up eagerly at his approach.

            With a silent prayer of forgiveness to the Maker, he pulled her into the corner and kissed her. He captured her mouth impatiently, trying to assure her of how much he wished to stay with her instead of going to meet their spymaster. She swayed against him, her hand on his cheek, but he quickly broke the kiss before the scout came looking for him. He gave her a quick kiss, a promise of more later, before he backed away with a smile. He saw her sigh happily and then he quickly rushed away and cut back through his office to catch up with the scout before he got suspicious.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn chewed her thumb as she scanned the page, trying to find more information on the herb that had interested her. She had to re-read the paragraph several times, distracted as she was, and sighed when she finally realized it didn’t have the answer she sought. She flipped through a few more pages, skipping ahead in the chapter, but still found nothing that could help her. She sighed again and flipped back to the end as her mind wandered briefly to the crooked grin Cullen had given her after he stole a kiss from her only an hour before. She closed her eyes and shook her head before she returned her full attention to the book on the table.

            “That’s an awful lot of sighing for the library, don’t you think, my dear?” Dorian asked as he took the seat across from her at the table she had scattered with notes and tomes. He reached for a book and looked at the title, frowning. “What are you researching so intently? Herbs and potions? ‘The Flora and Fauna of the Frostbacks,’” he read from the tome he picked up before he looked at her with an expectant look on his face.

            She nodded and reached for a different tome, only half listening to his questioning.

            “Looking for a monthly sort of solution, perhaps?” he teased. She looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, confused by his question. “I mean, unless you want a lot of golden curly-haired babies running all over Skyhold. You’re both quite good-looking. I suppose that wouldn’t be such a horrible thing, but whatever you think is best, little bird - I’ll support you.”

            Evelyn’s eyes widened and she shook her head hastily. “What? No, Dorian, we didn’t – we haven’t - that’s not -”

            “It isn’t? How disappointing,” he feigned a pout. “Although you should look into that later, I’d say. I’m not sure how long our poor pent up Commander will be able to resist your beautiful charms.”

            Evelyn tried to pointedly ignore him and buried her nose in the tome she held.

            Dorian laughed at her. “I’m just teasing, I’m sorry. I wanted to see just how seriously he took my advice. If that’s not it, then what are we researching?”

            “I thought I remembered reading about an herb that could be used…” but she trailed off as she scanned a paragraph that looked promising.

            “Well don’t keep me in suspense,” Dorian prompted her after a moment.

            “Hm? Oh, sorry,” she looked up from her reading. “I thought I remembered reading about an herb that could be used to relieve pain, like a compress.”

            “Elfroot, my dear,” he pointed out, laughing.

            “No, not like that. One that stays cold. You could weave a minor ice spell into it and it would stay cold for hours, and use it as a compress for pain.”

            Dorian tapped his chin with his finger thoughtfully. He picked up one of the tomes in front of him and began flipping through it to find something. “Did Adan ask you for this, or is our quest merely academic?”

            “No, it’s -” Evelyn slowly turned the page as she hesitated. Cullen hadn’t told her not to mention his lyrium withdrawal, but she assumed he didn’t want anyone to know. After all, he’d taken long enough to confess it to her, and she was the Inquisitor.

            “Ah, it’s for your golden lover,” Dorian observed with a smirk. “Maybe a solution for those temples he’s always rubbing?”

            She nodded but didn’t elaborate, instead returning to her research. Dorian fell silent as he continued to flip through the pages of the book he held, grinning as he did so.

            “He must be an excellent kisser if this is how you’re spending your free time,” he mused suddenly. “I can’t recall the last time I would have done something like this for just a kiss…Unless it was more?”

            “I -” Evelyn faltered. Her companion began to laugh uncontrollably. Finally she grinned as well and said, “I’m not giving you details.”

            Dorian quieted himself and sighed dramatically.

            “At least not until you give me some details about whatever is going on with you and Bull,” she quipped, watching him carefully. His cheeks reddened slightly and he avoided her gaze.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, little bird,” he replied.

            She wasn’t convinced. “I saw some of those looks you two gave each other last night.”

            “Yes, well, that’s all there is to tell,” Dorian continued avoiding her gaze, reading the page in front of him intently.

            “How disappointing,” she mocked, repeating his assertion about what had happened with Cullen.

            “That counts as details, though, so please do kiss and tell now.”

            “We’ve kissed. And that’s all there is to tell,” she answered smoothly.

            “Oh you’re no fun,” he bemoaned with an exaggerated sigh. “When? Did he actually kiss you or did you have to point out the obvious and ask him to do it? I swear that man would have missed the Breach if it hadn’t been so painfully large.”

            “It’s not that it wasn’t obvious to him,” Evelyn mused slowly. “I think…I think he thinks since I’m the Inquisitor that we shouldn’t.”

            “Yes, he said as much.”

            Evelyn raised her eyebrows at him. “He did?”

            “Said it wasn’t appropriate,” Dorian said, tracing the lines he was reading with his finger for a moment, frowning as he concentrated on the words instead of their conversation.

            “Did you convince him otherwise?” Evelyn sat forward in her chair, curious about what Cullen had told Dorian and forgetting about her research for the moment.

            “I didn’t think I had, he seemed like he was determined not to act on it.”

            Evelyn rested her chin in her hand, staring at the table as she thought. She had wondered at the way he had looked at her the previous evening, like he hadn’t expected to run into her or seek her out. He’d seemed reluctant to let her help him, too, though he had been incredibly grateful after she did. He had kissed her like a man possessed, like he hadn’t originally meant to and then couldn’t help himself. Then he pulled away too soon, like he had to fight with himself to stop. Yet that afternoon he had evaded the scout, run late to an important meeting with Leliana to sneak back and give her a kiss. He had seemed exceedingly eager to do so.

            “Was it something I said?” Dorian was watching her across the table.

            “I’m just realizing a few things,” she murmured, tapping her fingers on her cheeks as she continued thinking.

            “Like what?” he prompted, flipping a few pages as he did.

            “He hesitates, every time, like he’s fighting it,” she admitted. “I was a little worried maybe he didn’t really want to, didn’t really want me.”

            “Well that’s certainly not it,” Dorian laughed, raising his gaze to hers. “The poor man is so wound up with how much he wants you I was starting to worry he would explode.”

            “Maybe I’m the one who misses the obvious, then,” Evelyn laughed. “I couldn’t tell at all. I thought since I was a mage -”

            “Has no one told you what happened after Haven?” her companion interrupted.

            “No, actually,” she waited intently for Dorian to continue.

            “I thought he was going to try to kill the three of us for leaving you behind,” Dorian began, resting his forearms on the tome he’d been reading, focusing on her as he spoke. “He went positively mad. He insisted we stay, even though the valley we were in was not a safe or ideal location. He kept patrolling the hills, until finally he found you in the snow. He carried you to the healer’s tent himself, and then he insisted that he be the one to sit with you all night while you were unconscious.”

            “He did?”

            “Yes. I walked by on my way to my tent. He looked like he was praying, and was watching you intently. You moaned and stirred, like you were in pain and waking up, and he reached over and stroked your forehead until you were quiet again. He didn’t even notice me standing outside the tent because he was watching you so closely,” Dorian shook his head slightly. “I heard Mother Gisele had to basically force him to leave in the morning. She pushed him out and threatened to get Cassandra if he didn’t get some sleep.”

            “No one told me,” she frowned, trying to remember anything she could from that night. She could only remember bits and pieces of her trek through the snow as she tried to reach them. As soon as she’d seen them from the top of the hill she’d fallen, unable to continue; she didn’t remember being found by him.

            “He only slept an hour before he went back to check on you,” Dorian continued. “He kept pacing the camp after Mother Gisele told him he wasn’t needed. He was restless, snapping at everyone around him. Frankly it was rather irritating. When you woke up I think it was the biggest smile he’s ever managed in his life.”

            Evelyn resumed tapping her fingers on her cheeks, considering everything Dorian had told her. She wondered a bit why it puzzled her so much. If he cared about her as well, it made sense that he was worried about her injuries. But the way Dorian described him not wanting to leave her side tugged at something inside her. It felt tied to the way he hesitated before he kissed her, but she didn’t know what to think or why it puzzled her.

            “Who knew he would actually kiss the sacred Herald of Andraste,” Dorian laughed suddenly. “I’m glad he finally managed to take you off that pedestal for a few minutes.”

            “Pedestal?”

            “Yes,” Dorian watched her closely as he thought. “I worry he thinks you’re some sort of delicate holy relic who only deserves worship and reverence. It’s why I decided to prod him a bit over a game of chess. He needs to realize you’re still just a woman.”

            “You think so?” she mused, an eyebrow raised.

            “Yes. Although maybe he is realizing it now, but I’ll never be sure unless I know more about that kiss. Was it a chaste peck? Did he beg forgiveness after, or ask permission first?” Dorian chuckled as she rolled her eyes at his overeager questioning.

            “You just want all the details, don’t you?” she groaned. He nodded eagerly. “Fine, he…kissed me on the battlements. And it wasn’t a peck, it was…perfect. And he has a few more times, as well, if you must know.”

            Dorian’s eyebrows raised as high as they would go and then he began to laugh so loudly several people in the area looked around at them. “On the battlements where anyone could have seen you? My my…it seems he took my advice seriously after all.”

 

 

 

            Evelyn finally left the library, clutching the tome that had finally answered her question. Dorian had stayed and helped her research, and had been the one to discover the herb she’d been thinking of. She planned to seek out Adan and see whether or not they could find what she needed. She intended to cut through the small side courtyard to the infirmary but she saw Cullen closing a door further down the hall. Reports were clutched in his hand and he seemed lost in thought. She hurried forward, hoping to get another kiss from him before she sought out Adan.

            He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and gave her a crooked grin. “Hello,” he murmured as she reached him.

            “How was your meeting?” she asked, unable to keep the smile off her face.

            He heaved a sigh and looked at the reports. “Not nearly as enjoyable as what happened before the meeting.” He raised his eyes to hers again and she felt her heart race at his insinuation.

            “Do you have some time?” she breathed, unable to look away from the look he was giving her.

            “For you, always,” he said, placing his hand on her waist and guiding her down the hall, looking over his shoulder as they walked. Cullen led her to a deserted side hall and pushed her against the stone wall. The reports slipped out of his hands as he reached up to lift her chin toward him. He kissed her, his lips moving against hers slowly as though he was tasting her. She felt devoured, and she eagerly sought out his tongue with her own, trying to respond to his insistent rhythm. He pushed her roughly against the wall with his body, his hips pressing into her, and she let out a stifled gasp when she felt the bulge that pressed against her. He braced himself with his elbow against the stone above her head, kissing her deeply with a growing impatience she could feel in the rhythm of his tongue. He moaned against her lips when she nibbled his bottom lip lightly, and the book she’d been holding slipped out of her grasp and hit the floor with a loud thud.

            “Cullen, is that you?” came a familiar voice, and they broke apart with a gasp. Cullen backed away from Evelyn and cleared his throat. She pushed her fingertips to her lips, hoping to hide how wet they were from his kiss as Cassandra came around the corner.

            “Oh, Inquisitor -” Cassandra looked surprised to see her. “I thought I heard the Commander drop something and groan, I thought maybe -”

            Cassandra turned her questioning glance to Cullen and Evelyn tried not to burst into laughter at the look on his face. “I ran into the Inquisitor, I, ah -”

            The Seeker was looking at the reports and the book scattered on the floor. Evelyn was attempting to keep her face neutral, still with her fingers on her lips to prevent herself from giggling. Finally the other woman looked at Cullen. “Commander, were you in pain? Are you all right?”

            “I’m fine, it was just sudden, is all,” Cullen said quickly, seeming to seize on her words as a chance to explain what had happened. “I was speaking with the Inquisitor, it came upon me suddenly and I dropped my reports. I’m afraid I must have frightened her, she dropped her book.”

            Cassandra nodded. “I see. Are you all right?”

            “I should be, yes. Maybe some rest will help. I’ll be fine,” he assured her. Evelyn was still trying not to laugh. The Seeker gave a curt nod and slowly walked away from them, frowning as she turned away. Cullen waited for her to round the corner before he turned to Evelyn, who finally let her giggles escape.

            “You just lied, Commander,” she teased him. He gave a crooked grin and slowly advanced on her. The intensity in his eyes made the laughter die in her throat.

            “It was a harmless lie,” he murmured, and he pressed himself against her, trapping her against the wall with his body. He leaned down and recaptured her lips, kissing her even more impatiently than he had before they were interrupted. But again, he pulled away too soon, just as she found herself wishing they were somewhere more private. The feeling that had begun the night before, the throbbing that was so new within her, was only increasing as he pushed his hips against her. She never wanted him to stop.

            “We should probably get back to work,” he breathed against her lips, giving her one last fleeting kiss before he finally pulled away. She sighed, remembering her plans to see Adan.

            “You’re right,” she agreed, releasing a shaky breath as she tried to steady herself. Cullen bent to pick up the reports and he passed her the tome she had dropped.

            “Light reading?” he teased, glancing at the thick binding as he handed it over.

            “Just a bit of research,” she grinned at him, but she was determined for it to be a secret and didn’t elaborate.

            “Which way were you going?” he asked, and waited for her to point before he nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”

            They strolled slowly down the hall, both taking leisurely steps as though they didn’t want to reach their destinations too quickly. “You know, I’ve found out I have something else to thank you for,” she murmured after several peaceful moments of silence.

            “What’s that?”

            “After Haven, you found me, didn’t you,” she looked sideways at him and saw him nod at the statement, but he was frowning. “I understand you stayed with me, too, while I was unconscious. I wanted to say thank you for watching over me.”

            “It was no trouble, I was glad to do it,” he said, his crooked grin appearing again as he looked at her.

            “Indeed I hear you insisted on it.” She giggled when he looked surprised that she knew that.

            “I was worried for you,” he finally admitted. “I thought we’d lost you, I was…”

            “I know,” she said, and she reached over and squeezed his fingers with hers. “I just wanted to thank you. You always seem to be there when I need you.”

            She wondered at the funny look in his eyes as he smiled at her.


	29. Celebration

            “Come in,” he sighed, raising his head to look up from the report he was trying to focus on. The door opened and he saw Varric poke his head around it, one hand clamped over his eyes.

            “Am I interrupting? Are you alone?” the dwarf asked with an irritatingly large grin on his face, still keeping his eyes covered.

            “Yes, you’re interrupting my work,” Cullen grumbled. Varric finally lowered his hand and stared at the Commander.

            “Well that’s boring,” he stated as he took the seat on the other side of the desk.

            Cullen frowned at his visitor. “What did you think you were interrupting?”

            “Oh, I thought maybe I’d seen Sparkles heading this way, didn’t want to kill the mood,” Varric replied casually, and he laughed at the scowl Cullen gave him. “Don’t worry, she tried her best to keep us from finding out. Poor thing was mortified when we guessed why she couldn’t stop smiling.”

            Cullen fought his own smile at that information but then realized something Varric had said. The scowl quickly returned to his face. “‘Us?’ Who else knows?”

            “Just yours truly, The Iron Bull, and Dorian,” Varric counted them off on his fingers. “We gave her wine and pried until we got it out of her, so blame us and not her. She tried to keep it secret.”

            Cullen sighed in exasperation and sat back in his chair. “Is that why you’re here? To try and get it out of me, too? I’m working, so if you don’t mind -”

            “Hang on, hang on, I’m actually here with a purpose. I was just having a bit of fun, Curly, no need to get angry.”

            “Then tell me why you’re here so I can get back to work in peace.”

            “I wanted to let you know we’re planning a little celebration for Sparkles tomorrow evening in the tavern, and you should to be there,” Varric told him.

            “What’s it for?” Cullen leaned his elbow on his chair as he watched the dwarf’s curious expression.

            “It’s her birthday tomorrow, figured you’d want to be there for the festivities,” Varric grinned wickedly when he saw Cullen’s eyebrows raise. He stood up and turned to leave the office. “See you there, Curly.”

 

* * *

 

             He should have wrapped it better. He stood staring at the plain parchment he had tried to wrap with twine around Evelyn’s present, hesitating outside the door as he struggled with his embarrassment. He was late, too, but the reports had piled up and he had lost track of time. The sounds of music and laughter drifted out of the tavern to where he stood with his hand on the door, unable to open it. His head had been pounding all afternoon, and he knew she would know, he knew she would offer to help him immediately even though the crowd in the tavern was for her. He didn’t want to distract her, he didn’t want to need her. The last week and a half of sneaking kisses and letting her help him with his pains felt like a dream, but he knew it was coming to an end. She was leaving Skyhold in two days to resume her work as Inquisitor, and he needed to continue as he had before, enduring the pain on his own.

            Mentally he shook himself, realizing he couldn’t enter with the growing melancholy that he was currently experiencing or he’d spoil the mood. He took a deep breath and focused instead on the gift in his hand. He smiled and opened the door.

            “Eh, Curly!” he heard from across the room. Varric was standing beside the bar waving at him. The tavern was packed with what seemed like everyone in the Inquisition and he could hardly see the dwarf past the crowd. Evelyn was in the center of a group that consisted of Sera and several Bull’s Chargers. Sera seemed to be telling an inappropriate story because everyone around her was laughing uncontrollably except for Vivienne, who was glowering with disgust. At Varric’s cry Evelyn turned, looking over the crowd to find Cullen. Her face broke into such a radiant smile all of his hesitation and resistance fled.

            She began pushing her way past the crowd surrounding her as he did the same. They met in the middle and she stood there, staring up at him with such tender regard that he couldn’t speak for a moment. “Hello,” she finally said. “I’m glad they told you, I was worried you weren’t going to come.”

            “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up in some reports about the Templars,” he told her, having to raise his voice so that she could hear him over the noise in the tavern. “Do you have a moment? I had something to give you.”

            She nodded and he took her hand, leading her back out of the tavern to speak away from the noisy celebrations. Once they shut the door behind them, he turned and faced her but found he was momentarily speechless. Evelyn stared up at him looking so expectant, and he cleared his throat to try to remember why he’d asked her to step outside. He held the gift out to her.

            “I’m sorry, I decided to wrap it in parchment but I shouldn’t have tried,” he murmured, and he rubbed the back of his neck to ease his embarrassment. She accepted the offered gift, her eyes wide in wonder.

            “Cullen, you didn’t have to get me anything,” she untied the twine and peeled the paper off gingerly, as though she didn’t want to rip it. It was endearing, as though she cared about his attempt even if it was a poor wrapping job. Once she’d removed the parchment she turned the worn leather book over in her hands as she examined it.

            “It’s a collection of poems about Andraste and the Maker,” he told her. “It’s an old copy, I’m sorry, but I didn’t have time to get you a new one. My father gave it to me when I left for my training, but I thought you’d like to read them, considering…”

             Her expression softened as she looked up at him. “You’re giving me…don’t you want to keep this? Your father -”

            “I want you to have it,” he interrupted her, smiling. “I thought maybe you’d like them.”

            “I don’t know what to say,” she said. He noticed her voice tremble as she spoke. “Thank you, so much.”

            Evelyn tilted her head up to peer into his face, and he felt compelled by the look in her eyes. He leaned down and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. She sighed softly against his mouth and he felt all of his usual hesitation disappear. He pulled her closer to him by her waist, his other hand slipping into her hair. She tasted like wine, and he explored her gently with his tongue, deepening the kiss as though he could drink the wine from her lips. She was clutching the fur on his mantle, and he again wished he had thought to change so that he could feel her soft curves against him.

            He couldn’t pull away. The scolding voice that normally reminded Cullen to stop was silent, and he held her tightly to him as his mouth moved unrelentingly against hers. But his scolding voice seemed to think he deserved a night of happiness, and he let the kiss continue. When he remembered there was a tavern full of people waiting for her he finally lifted his face and stared down into her wide eyes. “Happy birthday,” he murmured. She smiled.

            “Thank you,” she sighed. “We should get back in there, I don’t know what they’ll think if we stay out here longer.”

            He laughed and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “Fair point. Dorian and Varric are probably already speculating wildly.”

            “Come on,” she smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the scar at the corner of his mouth before leading the way back into the tavern.

            “Little bird, where have you been? Was our dear Commander giving you his _present_?” Dorian asked suggestively, placing an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders as soon as she walked back into the tavern. The Tevinter gave Cullen a mischievous grin and a wink as he watched him follow Evelyn through the door.

            “As a matter of fact, yes. Now where’s my wine, Dorian? I asked you to hold it for me, not drink it,” she teased as she took a goblet from Dorian’s hand.

            Cullen made his way to the bar, deciding he deserved an ale and some relaxation. Varric was grinning at him as he approached. “Nice to see you made it, Curly,” he greeted, slapping him on the arm as he ordered the Commander a drink. Cullen accepted the tankard from the barkeep and turned to watch the festivities. Evelyn was at the center of the crowd, speaking with Cassandra and Blackwall, and she glanced at him over their shoulders. She caught his eye and smiled before she went back to her conversation. He grinned into his ale, marveling at the pleasant understanding they shared, the mutual contentment as they looked at each other through a crowd of other people. It made the throbbing in his temples fade slightly. He deserved his happiness, at least for one night.


	30. Back to Work

            Over the last four weeks, Evelyn had briefly attended war councils, only getting critical updates and helping make decisions on how their forces were handling things without her active presence beyond Skyhold. Now she stood looking over the map, trying to determine what was happening in Orlais and where their forces were. She hadn’t heard from Hawke yet, and didn’t know if she and Stroud had reached the Western Approach. She wondered if she should worry about them.

            The door opened behind her and she saw Cullen enter, his gaze buried in a report he carried. “Hello, Commander,” she greeted playfully, smiling when he looked up and saw she was alone in the war room.

            “Inquisitor,” he replied with a crooked grin. He closed the door behind him and in a few strides was before her, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her to him.

            “The others will be here -” she began but he silenced her with a kiss. Evelyn gave a small laugh against his lips that quickly turned into a moan. He raised his face and smiled down at her. “Cullen, really -”

            He sighed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before he released her and stepped away. Just as he did, the door opened and the other advisors walked into the room.

            “Ah, Inquisitor, Commander, you’re already here. Perfect,” Josephine greeted them. “Shall we begin?”

            Evelyn listened intently as her advisors reported everything she had missed during the month she was resting. They had finally received word from Hawke that morning, who asked that the Inquisitor join them in the Western Approach as soon as possible. They also gave her the information she needed about the Civil War in Orlais, and what their plans were to get into the Winter Palace.

            “We are trying to find a way to prevent the assassination,” Josephine sighed. “But so far, our influence is low, and we have been unsuccessful at finding a way in.”

            “Luckily my spies have determined that she is, for the moment, safe,” Leliana chimed in. “How long that will last though is unknown at present.”

            Evelyn nodded, staring at the map as she thought. “I should get to the Western Approach in the meantime. Hawke and Stroud have been there long enough without me, and if it’s as dire as Hawke suggests…I should set out at dawn.”

            “An excellent idea, Inquisitor,” Cullen agreed with a smile. She tried not to get distracted from maintaining her usual Inquisitor focus at the sight of his crooked smirk. Leliana seemed to be frowning at the Commander, and Evelyn tried to ignore her suspicions about the other woman’s inquisitive regard.

            “From there I could head to the Emerald Graves, and follow up on the leads we have on the Templars and red lyrium, before I return to Skyhold. That is, if we’ve made more progress on the Winter Palace,” she mused, tracing a finger over her lips as she considered. She had to shake herself a bit to keep from remembering the kiss Cullen had just stolen from her. “Josephine, would that give us enough time to make our plans to stop the assassination of the Empress?”

            “Depending on how things progress in the Western Approach, yes, I believe so. There are several things in the works already,” the Ambassador agreed, jotting notes quickly as she always did.

            “Then I’ll leave in the morning,” Evelyn nodded. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

            “No,” Leliana answered. “Inquisitor, may I ask – has this month helped? There’s no telling what will happen, the way things are going in Orlais, with Corypheus and everything else. I’d like to make sure you are heading out there completely ready for what’s to come.”

            “Yes, thank you Leliana,” Evelyn gave a grateful smile. “This month has been a tremendous help.”

            She saw Cullen smiling at her warmly and tried to avoid his gaze, unsure what she would reveal if she looked at him.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn fastened the dagger to her belt and looked around her quarters one last time to be sure she had gotten everything she needed to take with her. She had spoken with Adan the day before, leaving him with instructions and the resources he needed to make the compresses while she was gone. She worried Cullen might be angry with her about it, but knew that if they helped his headaches while she was gone, she would be fine if he was. She just wanted him to be free from pain.

            With one last wistful glance at the soft bed she was leaving behind, she departed her room and headed for the bridge toward Cullen’s office. It was barely sunrise, but she hoped to say goodbye to him before she left. She would be gone for weeks, and she had gotten used to seeing him every day. She hesitantly knocked when she reached his door, realizing the hour was early and he may still be in bed. To her surprise he opened the door almost as soon as she knocked, already in his full armor and mantle for the day.

            “I was going to come see you off,” he said as he stepped back to let her enter.

            “I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” she smiled. He closed the door and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll send you a report as soon as I figure out what’s going on in the Western -”

            “Shh, no Commander and Inquisitor for a moment,” he told her, and he kissed her deeply. “Please be safe,” he said when he finally pulled away from her.

            “I will be,” she murmured. “I have the dagger you gave me, after all.”

            He grinned as he looked down and ran a finger along the scabbard. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I’ll come see you off.”

            They walked to the stables together and Evelyn checked the fit of her saddle while she waited for her companions. Cullen stood by her, watching silently and occasionally reaching over to double check a buckle or stroke her horse. She smiled to herself; it was so intimate and affectionate, the way he checked that every buckle was secure to ensure she would be safe. Finally her companions arrived and made their own preparations.

            Varric and Cassandra seemed to be pointedly ignoring each other, and Evelyn momentarily doubted her decision to bring both of them together to meet Hawke in the Western Approach. But what Hawke had said in her report made her feel the need to have Cassandra around to help make decisions; she relied on the other woman’s judgment a great deal. She wasn’t sure if Varric would have forgiven her for leaving him behind to go see Hawke, either. Dorian was muttering to himself as he packed his saddle and checked his own straps. He looked annoyed. It wasn’t a good sign for the start of her journey that all of her companions looked on edge. She sighed a little to herself. Cullen stayed beside Evelyn as her companions fixed their own saddles, watching her with a crooked grin on his face.

            “Well, Commander,” she said as she turned to face him. “As I said, I’ll send a report as soon as I have more information.”

            “Thank you, Inquisitor,” he gave a jerk of his head, trying to act professional and detached. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve discovered. Safe travels.”

            She mounted her horse and looked down at him, giving him a soft, secretive smile. He stood back from her horse and gave her a nod of farewell. She gently kicked her heels against the side of her steed and directed it away from him and out the gates of Skyhold.


	31. Pain

            Cullen almost missed the knock on his door. His head was throbbing and he was temporarily unable to focus on anything but the pain as he rubbed at his temples. He was disappointed that his fingers no longer provided as much relief now that he knew the comfort that her delicate fingertips could provide him. The knock sounded again on his door and he finally called for admittance.

            “Ah, Commander, I see my visit is timely,” Adan said as he entered the room. He had an eyebrow raised pointedly as he looked at the way Cullen was holding his head between his hands.

            “Adan, how can I help you?”

            “Today I’m here to help you,” the healer said. He set his satchel on Cullen’s desk and began to remove some cloths that looked as though they had a soggy mixture of herbs laying between them.

            “I’m not sure what you mean,” Cullen said slowly. He wondered if it was Cassandra’s doing. “There’s nothing you can help with, Adan, but thank you -”

            “I’m under strict orders from the Inquisitor, Commander,” Adan interrupted.

            Cullen raised his eyebrows as high as they would go. “The Inquisitor?”

            “Yes,” Adan answered absently as he unfolded the top piece of cloth and began poking the mixture of herbs. A faint glow of white and blue emanated from his fingers as he moved them through the poultice. The poultice began to frost over, and ice crystals hovered in the air above the cloth.

            “What is that?” Cullen looked at it suspiciously.

            “A compress,” the healer folded the cloth back together and held it out to Cullen across the desk. “She wanted me to show you how it was done, so that you wouldn’t be worried about what it was. It’s a simple poultice made from Elfroot, Spindleweed, and Hoarfrost Lotus, with a simple ice spell woven into the herbs. It will hold the spell for several hours, and should provide some relief for your headaches.”

            Cullen stared at the compress he was being offered, dumbfounded by Evelyn’s care. He hadn’t known she’d been planning this. “She asked you to give this to me?”

            “Yes, daily if necessary. She instructed me that I am to make them for you and keep an eye on you while she is gone,” Adan held the compress out more insistently. “Please take it, Commander. She’d be angry with me if I didn’t do as instructed, don’t you think?”

            Cullen couldn’t imagine her angry, but the idea of cool relief for his head was too tempting to refuse. He took the compress and felt how icy it was through his glove. He pressed it to his head and sighed, his eyes closing as the relief spread through him.

            “Glad to see it works,” the healer observed.

            “Did you tell her about this?” Cullen asked.

            “No, she brought the idea to me,” Adan picked up his satchel from the desk. “She did the research and made sure she requisitioned the resources so that I could make them while she was gone. I believe Leliana’s scouts were sent to find the Hoarfrost Lotus. It grows near here in the Frostbacks. The Inquisitor insisted the Inquisition needed its Commander at full health during her time away.”

 

 

 

            He didn’t deserve her. He knew that now more than ever. Now that the pain had dissipated some after a few days of the cold compresses Adan brought him, the scolding voice had returned in full force. Cullen set the compress aside with a sigh and rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the crippling doubt he felt. She was too good, she did too much to help him. He was certain if she knew about Kirkwall, if she knew about how he had been as a Templar, she would never again look at him the way she did now. She certainly wouldn’t carefully tend to his aching pains. He deserved each and every one of them.

            That strange boy Cole had said she thought he was warm, that the other Templars were cold. He hated how untrue that was, hated how she would realize he had once been one of the cold Templars she distrusted so much. He remembered Kirkwall, the way he had turned a blind eye to all of Meredith’s paranoid transgressions. How he had heard Ser Alrik’s plans for a Tranquil Solution and given them more than a passing thought. How he had actually drafted a letter to Meredith supporting the idea, though he had never given it to her and had denied his support when Hawke had confronted him with the plans. How he had consistently treated the mages like they were less than people, like they were personally responsible for Uldred’s actions against him. He remembered the Harrowings he had attended, where the mages were struck down when it appeared they had failed and he had found himself incredibly glad that they had been neutralized.

            When his head wasn’t throbbing, he remembered more than he did when he was in pain. Most days he couldn’t tell which was worse – the pain he felt in his head and his hands or the pain of remembering everything he had done wrong in his life. The nightmares were overpowering him, replacing the nights of restful sleep he had gotten for a few stolen nights as he had dreamed of her smile and her kisses. He was back to sleeping barely an hour a night, waking up in the grip of terror as he saw Uldred’s face before him, thinking he was again stuck in that magic cage being tortured.

            The month she had been at Skyhold, the last two weeks of stealing kisses every chance he had, felt like they were from someone else’s life. But she was gone now, and he found his mind rationalizing that he needed to break things off with her. He needed to walk away, cause her some pain now to save her the pain of finding out later. He hated himself, feeling like he had lied to her and let her believe he was someone else. He had deceived her, and she would never forgive him. Selfishness had caused him to let her think she could care for him, and regretfully he knew he needed to push her away.

            Even if she could understand, as Cole had said she would that night, he knew that he also couldn’t let her see the deterioration he was bound to face with his withdrawal. He worried what would happen if his memory declined, if he began to lose his sanity. She was still so young, she deserved an able-bodied young man who didn’t have the traumas and struggles he did. She was already trying to fix all of Thedas, she didn’t need to try to fix him as well.

            He steeled himself to do it. He knew that when she came back he needed to tell her. A mental image of her tear-stained face as he broke her heart became emblazoned on his mind and he tried to bury it. It would be better this way, even if she never forgave him or understood why.

 

* * *

 

            “I was beginning to think I was going to have to do this all myself,” Hawke teased when Evelyn reached a hand out to greet her. “I understand you were ordered to rest?”

            Evelyn shot Varric a glare and he tried to feign innocence with a shrug. “I was, yes. The events and my injuries at Haven had left me…exhausted, I suppose, and it caught up with me,” Evelyn muttered.

            “I’m glad you’re here now,” Hawke motioned with her hand for Evelyn to follow. “This was the best place to camp. You can see over there,” she pointed, “there’s been some unusual activity at that tower. Stroud thinks it’s the Wardens. He’s scouting now to see what else he can find.”

            “Excellent,” Evelyn agreed. “Have you seen anything else? Any clue about what they may be doing?”

            “No, none at all,” Hawke sighed. “But so far, all the signs point to them being here. We’ll head out tomorrow and try to discover what we can.”

            “Good. I look forward to hearing what Stroud has to report,” Evelyn turned back to set up her own tent beside her companions’.

            Hawke walked over their campfire and reignited it easily with her magic. She noticed Evelyn watching her and smiled. “I understand from Varric that lightning is more your speed,  _Sparkles_ ,” she mused, a twinkle in her eye as she pronounced the nickname. Evelyn nodded, feeling annoyed. It didn’t bother her coming from Varric, but Hawke calling her that made her feel like she was somehow inferior to the other woman. “He said you had a very powerful affinity for it, too. I suppose that explains the eyes.”

            Hawke reclined casually on the ground beside the fire as she watched Evelyn setting up her part of the camp. Cassandra had walked away to patrol the area, and Dorian had retired to his tent with a book. Varric had wandered off after setting up his tent, no doubt to stretch his legs after the long journey. Evelyn tried to focus on her task of unpacking her tent and setting up her sleeping mat, trying to ignore the Champion as she did.

            Hawke was watching her intently, and Evelyn bristled a little under the scrutiny. Although Hawke had been kind and polite to her, she was incredibly intimidated by the other woman. She had accomplished so much, had been in Kirkwall when all of this began. Evelyn felt like a naïve child compared to the Champion of Kirkwall. It made her uneasy, as though she had something to prove to be taken as seriously as the other woman.

            “You were an apostate?” Evelyn asked, trying to make light conversation to break the tension Hawke’s staring was creating.

            “Yes, I was. Although really, aren’t we all now?” Hawke chuckled and started to unpin her golden bun, looking utterly relaxed.

            “What was it like, growing up away from the Circle?” Evelyn took her place beside the fire, sitting some distance from Hawke. She tried to look just as casual, but was unable to pull it off as easily as her companion.

            “It was interesting,” Hawke said slowly. “What was it like growing up in the Circle?”

            “It was interesting,” Evelyn mirrored.

            Hawke burst out laughing. “Fair enough,” she replied. She began to comb her soft curls with her fingers as she watched Evelyn, still observing her intently. “Why were you at the Conclave? Were you a part of the rebellion?”

            “No, I was sent by my First Enchanter,” Evelyn answered as she fidgeted with her long plait.

            “How unfortunate for you,” Hawke pointed out. Evelyn noticed a sympathetic look behind the woman’s hazel eyes, which were shining golden in the light from the fire. Evelyn was again reminded of looking into the sun.

            “Where have you been since Kirkwall?” Evelyn asked after a moment.

            “Around,” Hawke said lightly, staring into the fire and still running her fingers absently through her curls.

            “You’re alone, I would have thought you would still have some of your friends with you,” Evelyn frowned.

            “No, we went our separate ways, except -” she hesitated. “It was easier this way.”

            “Varric made it sound like you had been traveling with someone,” Evelyn said. She wasn’t sure why she felt like pushing it; Hawke’s own questioning made her want to pry.

            Hawke raised her gaze to Evelyn and held it, contemplating her answer for a moment. She lowered her hand from her hair and rested it on her stomach before she spoke. “I was, but I had to leave him behind. He would die trying to protect me, and I…can’t let that happen.”

            Evelyn saw the sad look in the Champion’s eyes and felt sorry she had brought it up. Curiosity continued to get the better of her. “Was it Anders?  _The Tale of the Champion_  made it seem like -”

            Hawke began to laugh and Evelyn fell silent. “I think that was the way Anders may have seen things, but no. I’ve been with Fenris, since the beginning.”

            “Since the beginning?”

            Hawke gave a funny shrug as she stared into the fire once more. “Anders tried, I think he was in love with me – he cared, certainly. And the tragic romantic that Varric is, he emphasized that ‘unrequited love’ angle in  _The Tale of the Champion_ ,” Hawke chuckled and shook her head. “But have you ever met someone who you just instantly felt like you were – whole, when you were with them?”

            Evelyn met the questioning look Hawke was giving her and realized she might understand the feeling. She gave a slow nod, and Hawke smiled sadly at her. “Fenris was that for me. It was always him. Anders tried, he kissed me and asked me to be with him, but I couldn’t ever think about anyone but Fenris. Not since we met, not even during our years apart.”

            “So where is he now?”

            “Some place safe,” Hawke answered softly. “He doesn’t know where I am.”

            It was a quiet confession, and Evelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t tell him?”

            Hawke shook her head but was silent, her hands clasped across her belly. After several moments of staring at the fire she finally cleared her throat and looked up at Evelyn. “How about you? You’ve pried enough about me, is there something I can get out of you to make things fair?”

            Evelyn found herself giggling in response to Hawke’s bluntness. A bit of her icy reserve to the woman dissipated when faced with her sunny smile and humor. Before she could answer, Varric came to join them by the fire, taking his place in between the two women.

            “Ask her about Curly, if you’re trying to make her blush,” he teased, and Evelyn shot him a glare.

            “Who’s Curly?” Hawke asked as her eyes twinkled suggestively. The sadness Evelyn had noticed was gone, but it almost seemed like Hawke was only hiding it behind her mirth.

            “That’s the best part, Hawke. You know him,” Varric said.

            “Not -” Hawke was staring at the dwarf with a shocked expression on her face.

            “Oh yes,” he answered.

            Evelyn fidgeted with her braid some more, avoiding both of their gazes as she stared at the fire.

            “Then he must be completely different now, like you tried to tell me,” Hawke mused. “I can’t imagine the Knight-Captain I knew being in a relationship with a mage.”

            “What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, forgetting that she had wanted to stay out of the conversation.

            Hawke stared at her with a curious look on her face. “He hasn’t told you much about Kirkwall, has he?”

            Evelyn shrugged. “He’s told me a little. He seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it though, and I’ve tried to respect that.”

            Hawke pursed her lips and watched Evelyn intently for a few moments. “I believe in second chances, and I believe people can change. If I didn’t, Fenris and I would never work, considering his initial feelings on mages. But…” she paused and kept her intense gaze on Evelyn. “Try to ask him about it sometime. I think you should know he wasn’t always so fond of mages.”

            “Hawke, that’s not fair,” Varric chimed in.

            The Champion shot him a curious glare. “The Tranquil Solution,” she said.

            “That wasn’t his and you know it,” Varric countered.

            “The Tranquil Solution?” Evelyn interjected.

            “Sparkles, things at the Circle in Kirkwall were, well - shit,” Varric told her. “Meredith bred a culture of distrust, paranoia, and contempt among the Templars -”

            “It wasn’t just her and  _you_  know it,” Hawke cut across Varric’s reassurances.

            “No, but you remember what happened, Hawke. Curly stood with us - hell he took a blow for you and still has the scar to prove it,” Varric argued.

            Hawke huffed and grumbled something about “wasn’t necessary,” but before she could say anything further Evelyn sat forward and interrupted, “His scar? The one by his mouth?”

            Varric nodded. “Has he never told you the story? I thought maybe that was part of how he wooed you. Figured he would waste no time telling you the story of how he threw himself in front of the Champion of Kirkwall and took a blow from his red-lyrium crazed Knight-Commander.”

            Evelyn folded her arms and chewed a thumb, thinking. She wondered a little why he hadn’t told her; it was actually a story that showed how much he had changed his ways that day. Taking a hit for an apostate mage from his Knight-Commander no less… She was puzzled by Hawke’s attitude regarding Cullen; she seemed like they knew each other better than he had let on.

           

 

 

            “Blood magic?” Hawke cried, throwing her staff down on the ground in frustration. “I have had  _enough_  of blood magic to last two lifetimes.”

            Evelyn was shaking. The effort she had just exerted with the Anchor had drained her and she bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Varric was inspecting a nearby dead Warden, looking for clues about where the others were while Cassandra and Stroud looked from the battlements for the mage, Erimond. Dorian was running his hand through his hair, aggravated by the involvement of the Venatori as he stared around at the pile of dead demons and Wardens that surrounded them.

            “How hard is it to say no to demons?” Hawke kicked the nearby wall and gave an exasperated snarl.

            “This is bad, Sparkles,” Varric muttered.

            “I know, Varric, thank you,” Evelyn sighed, still trying to catch her breath.

            “He went toward Adamant Fortress,” the Warden Stroud called out, returning from the battlements. “I’m positive of it.”

            “Maybe that’s where the rest of them are,” Cassandra said as she joined them again. “If all of the Grey Wardens are there, all of the ones called back by the Warden-Commander…”

            “We need a bigger army,” Varric said.

            “Especially if they have managed to build even a fraction of that demon army Corypheus had in the future,” Dorian mumbled.

            “Inquisitor, we must return to Skyhold, we must get our forces and put a stop to this,” Cassandra suggested.

            “Please tell me you have an impressive amount of soldiers, Inquisitor,” Hawke said wryly.

            “No detours like we planned,” Evelyn finally stood up and looked at her companions. “We have to get back. Stroud, stay here, try to keep an eye on the Fortress. Send us word if anything changes. We’ll be back as soon as we can be.”

            “I’ll stay too,” Hawke said. “And Inquisitor – hurry.”

 


	32. Walk Away

            They began their trek back to Skyhold immediately, their journey rushed and uneventful as they tried to reach the keep as quickly as they could. When they finally did, Evelyn noticed she wasn’t the only one who gave a relieved sigh at the stalwart sight of Skyhold before them. She rode through the open gate and couldn’t help musing about the last time she had come back, of the argument she had had with the Commander. How much had changed since then.

            Leliana was waiting for them by the stables, and greeted Evelyn curtly before asking if she was able to attend a war council. They had received the message Evelyn had sent and wanted to meet about Adamant Fortress as soon as possible.

            “Of course,” Evelyn agreed, passing the reins of her horse to Master Dennett and following Leliana to the war room. She tried not to be disappointed that it was the spymaster who waited for her. She reproached herself for her selfish eagerness. She was back because she was the Inquisitor, because she was needed for the Inquisition, not so that she could see him. She felt like a lovesick young maiden, and tried to refocus herself on the task at hand. It had been a rough journey, though, and she was in need of a warm, crooked smile.

            She followed Leliana to the war room with Cassandra and found the other two were already waiting for them. Josephine greeted her warmly, and she felt her resolve to be just the Inquisitor slip slightly when she saw the stilted way the Commander greeted her. He could hardly look at her. Cassandra began relaying what they had discovered in the Western Approach, but Evelyn found herself distracted by the way Cullen was avoiding her gaze. She finally chimed in and added to Cassandra’s report, but still Cullen stared at the map with his hand gripping his pommel. She wondered if he was in pain and didn’t want her to know.

            They finished their reports and began to plan their next move. They spent the next hour going over everything they knew about the Fortress, but Leliana finally conceded that they needed to wait for word from scouts and Hawke and Stroud before they could decide how best to proceed. Josephine said she would use the time to appeal to nobles in the area for their support in their attack on the Fortress. Evelyn agreed to meet the next day and headed to her quarters. She was eager to get out of her armor and into a bath after how many days she had been traveling without stopping for longer than a few hours of rest.

            She mused over Cullen’s behavior while she bathed herself, and instead of relaxing and taking her time she hurried and quickly dressed. Determined to find out what was wrong and see if the compresses had worked, she hurried through the keep to his office.

            Light came from under the door to his office, so she knew he still had to be awake. She opened the door and poked her head in without knocking. Cullen was sitting at his desk looking at a report as he held one of the compresses to his forehead. She was surprised to see he wasn’t in his armor, instead just wearing a casual loose shirt and leather breeches. It was late and she assumed he must have been nearly ready to head to bed. He didn’t look up when she opened the door and she quickly closed it behind her, clearing her throat a little so that he would see her.

            Cullen glanced up at the sound and seemed surprised to see her, although she wasn’t quite sure it was only surprise. Something looked wrong behind his eyes, and instead of the smile she meant to meet him with she frowned.

            “Inquisitor,” he greeted her as he lowered the compress and set it aside. Her frown deepened as she approached his desk. “It’s late, is there something I can do for you?”

            “Inquisitor?” she repeated. This wasn’t at all how she had seen their reunion going. “Cullen, what’s wrong?”

            The muscles in his jaw flexed and he looked away from her, shuffling reports on his desk distractedly. He didn’t answer.

            “Cullen, did something happen?” She walked around the desk and leaned against its edge, standing beside where he sat. He moved his arm so that it didn’t come into contact with her and kept his gaze averted. She reached out to him and brushed her fingers through the hair on the top of his head. He recoiled and grabbed her wrist with his hand to pull it away from him.

            “Please – don’t -” he muttered and let go of her wrist as he tried to scoot away from her. She couldn’t understand it at all.

            “What did I do? Are you angry I had Adan checking on you?” she pleaded. She felt like she wanted to cry at the sight of the way he was holding himself away from her. “Cullen?” she prompted desperately when he still didn’t answer her.

 

* * *

  

            Her voice tore through him and he felt even more despicable than he had for ignoring her in the war room, for sending Leliana to greet her instead of doing it himself. He couldn’t look at her, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to do it. He felt like a coward, and his self-loathing taunted him with the word as he stood up and moved away from her to look out the window. He could feel her eyes on him but she didn’t move and stayed where she leaned against the desk.

            “The compresses helped, thank you for doing that,” he finally said, and he hated how stiff his voice sounded.

            “So you’re not angry with me?” she asked from behind him, and he could hear a tremble in her voice. If she cried he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his resolve.

            “No, I’m not angry with you,” he told her. “But I’ve realized, those few weeks you were here, I – I acted inappropriately. You need to focus on the Inquisition, and I was distracting you from your – our – duties.”

            “No, wait -”

            “Please, Evelyn, I think it’s best if we take a step back,” he firmly interrupted her. He had to get this out. He couldn’t listen to her pleading. “You have so much responsibility to deal with. You shouldn’t have to help me with my struggles, with my withdrawal. I shouldn’t have acted as I did, I shouldn’t have ever let myself kiss you. It was wrong of me. It’s unfair to you, and I was selfish to let things get even this far.”

            He finally turned to face her, and the look on her face tugged at his heartstrings. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were wide, her brows in a deep frown, her mouth hanging open slightly as she tried to absorb what he was saying. Cullen folded his arms and looked away from her, hating himself more than he usually did.

            “Don’t you think that should be my decision?” she asked suddenly, her voice firm. She no longer sounded like she was going to cry. He looked up at her in surprise at the change in her tone. “If I want to help you, if I want to care for you even in the midst of everything else, everything I’m dealing with – I think that should be up to me.”

            She stood up from where she had leaned against the desk and took a few steps toward him. The look in her clear eyes was fierce determination, and it took his breath away to see her looking so resolute. The quiet leadership quality, the self-assurance she showed around the war table, was evident in the way she was looking at him as she approached. “If you’re saying you don’t care about me, if you don’t have feelings for me, then tell me and I’ll leave now. I’ll leave you alone. But if you think you’re a burden to me and are trying to break things off because you think I can’t handle it, that’s selfish of you. Let me decide for myself whether I care enough to help you with your struggles as well as my own.”

            He stared at her, and he tried to force himself to tell her he didn’t care. If lying to her was what it took, he had to do it. But the way her eyes were fixed on him, unwavering and expectant, sparkling with her resolve, made him unable to say the words. He couldn’t lie, not about this, not about how he felt. The scolding voice that had plagued him for the time she was gone was repeating the lie, trying to get him to say _I don’t care about you, I’m sorry,_ but aloud he said, “I do care about you.”

            She gave a small smile and took another step toward him. “Then let me decide which burdens I’m willing to bear.”

            Her words melted him. He unfolded his arms and took her hands in his, squeezing her fingers gently. He still wanted to try. He still needed to make her see reason, but he couldn’t lie to do it. “Evelyn, my withdrawal – what if I lose my mind? My memory could fail me, I could start to see demons everywhere. I could mistake you for an enemy, attack you,” he held a finger to her lips when she opened her mouth to interrupt him. “You’re so young. You deserve someone who isn’t broken, someone who could pass the years easily with you. Someone without trauma and horrors in their past, who can carry you instead of adding to the weight on your shoulders like I will.”

            She raised a hand to his cheek and lightly stroked the scar at the corner of his mouth with her thumb, as she had when he found her in the snow. He closed his eyes at the feeling, at the memory, and he felt his doubt leave him. Maybe she was right, maybe it should be her decision.

            “Is there more to it than that?” she asked suddenly. “Is this because of what happened in Kirkwall? Do you…do you think it’s not appropriate because you were a Templar, because of what happened with Meredith?”

            He looked up at her and frowned. “What do you mean?”

            She pulled away from him and folded her arms as she contemplated. “I spoke with Hawke. She said you weren’t ‘always so fond of mages.’ I guess I’m wondering if you’re bothered by who I am, even though you said you weren’t.”

            “I -” he didn’t know how to answer. _Leave it to Hawke to bring that up_ , he mused bitterly.

            “What did she mean, Cullen?” Evelyn was still staring at him, her attentive eyes never leaving his face. It was as though she were trying to take in everything his stunned face would reveal as he tried to think of how to answer her.

            “I was…a different man in Kirkwall,” he admitted reluctantly. “What happened at the Circle in Ferelden, during the Blight, changed me. I’m not proud of who I was.”

            “Will you tell me what happened?” she gently prompted him.

            He felt his heart speed up. He closed his eyes and tried to take a steadying breath as the memories came to the surface. “Evelyn, I -”

            “I just want to understand you,” she murmured, and reached a hand to his shoulder. “I thought you were happy, when I left we seemed…like we both wanted the same thing. But now, I’m back and you’re talking about needing to end this, saying it was wrong from the start. It feels so sudden. I can’t understand it.”

            “If you knew about Kirkwall, if you knew about Ferelden, what I was like as a Templar -” he took a deep breath. “You wouldn’t feel this way about me. I feel like I’ve lied to you.”

            “Have you?” she asked.

            “Just by not telling you,” he sighed.

            “What…what was the Tranquil Solution?”

            He raised his eyes to hers, his stomach tying in knots. “Where did you hear that term?”

            “Hawke,” she answered, furrowing her brow as she looked at him.

            “It…it was something -” he shook his head and turned away from her. “It was a proposal from a Templar in Kirkwall. A proposal to make all mages Tranquil, to preemptively neutralize the danger they can pose.”

            She said nothing, and he looked up to see that she was staring at him, wide-eyed in disbelief. That was almost more painful to him than if she had been angry.

            “It never happened,” he rushed to assure her. “He tried to bring it to Meredith and the Grand Cleric, but they both rejected it.”

            “Why would Hawke mention it in relation to you?” her voice was barely a whisper.

            “She confronted me with the evidence, demanded I renounce it, that I do something about it,” he put his face in his hands as he remembered. “I tried to tell her that it had been rejected but…I think she knew. I think she could tell,” he raised his gaze to hers, “I think she could tell that I had given it some thought. That I had seriously considered whether or not it would be a good solution.”

            Evelyn’s lips tightened, the same way they had when she had tried to keep herself from crying. “You had?” Her voice tore through him. He reached out for her arms, wanting to reassure her, but she stepped back, not taking her gaze off his face. “Cullen, answer me.”

            “This is what I meant,” he moaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “This is why I said we should take a step back, why I shouldn’t have ever let it get this far. Evelyn, I was a despicable man, for ten years. I hated mages. I thought they were all like the ones who had tortured me in Ferelden.”

            “You were -”

            “Yes. I was tortured, my fellow Templars almost all killed by abominations in front of me. They tried to break me, they tried to get me to -” his voice broke and he shook his head as if he could erase the memories if he did so. His hands were shaking, his head throbbing. He walked to the desk and leaned his hands upon the edge, gripping it tightly to try to stop the shaking. “I want to be better. I thought I could be. But I was fooling myself. I’m no better than I was then, or I wouldn’t have let you think you could care for me. Not after what I’ve done, who I was. You’re too good, too pure for someone like me.”

            He felt her move to stand beside him but he didn’t raise his gaze. He was still gripping the desk to try to stop the shaking. “Cullen, I’m sorry I brought it up,” she said, and he could tell her voice was trembling. “I didn’t mean to make you think about it, I didn’t mean to cause you pain. But I think…I think I need a few days, and I think you do too.”

            His heart sank and he clenched his eyes shut tighter. Of course she did. This was what he’d wanted, to break her heart and push her away. But now that it had happened, he felt devastated beyond repair.

            “It’s fine, Evel – Inquisitor. You don’t have to forgive me, you don’t have to try to understand,” he whispered. “Please, walk away from me. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve this.”


	33. Shame

            Evelyn stood on her balcony, staring out at the snowy mountains without really seeing them. She hadn’t cried at all, which she found surprising. Her head was swimming and she hadn’t been able to fall asleep despite how physically exhausted she felt from her hurried return journey. Insomnia had driven her to her balcony, thinking about the last few days as the cold night air chilled her through the thin cloth of her night shift.

            She knew that she still couldn’t have all of the pieces, that there was probably more he was holding back. Somehow, she didn’t feel as angry as she thought she should. Varric had told her stories about Kirkwall, had told her the things that happened while Hawke was there. She knew that the Gallows had been a terrible place. She understood too well the endless cycle of distrust and desperation that made the mages and Templars clash so horribly there. Having lived in the Circle her whole life, she knew how desperate the constant watching and suspicion could make someone feel. She couldn’t imagine herself resorting to demons or blood magic because of it, but she could understand how some could think that was the only option available to them as things had spiraled out of control.

            If Cullen had been tortured and nearly killed in Ferelden during the Blight, she felt sympathy for his struggles in the years that followed. It was clear that it still deeply affected him, and she assumed his lyrium withdrawal only made the feelings worse. She had done research on the symptoms since he’d told her, and knew that it couldn’t be helping with his trauma and nightmares. She knew now why he was so intent on cutting all ties with the Templars. He was trying so hard to change, to put Kirkwall and everything that had happened there, everything about the man he had been, behind him.

            Before the Conclave, Evelyn had had few traumas in her life. She had lost family members, she had been taken from her family, but she hadn’t felt traumatized by it. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with a trauma as severe as what he had hinted at suffering during the Blight. The Conclave and everything that had happened after had changed her until she barely recognized herself, but at the same time she knew that deep down she was still the same person. She had just grown, had experienced more, and had to deal with things she never expected she would face. She could tell the same was true of Cullen. His time at Kirkwall had just been him reacting to experiencing the worst magic could do. It was understandable that he was different, more self-preserving, and more suspicious, considering everything he seemed to have been through. But the fact that he had stepped up in the end, had stood against Meredith and even protected a mage as he did so, showed that he was still the same man he had once been.

            He had been changed by Calenhad, but she could tell that he was still the young boy who had joined the Templars to protect people. She remembered the conversation they had had, when she had asked him why he joined the Order. He had told her he wanted to protect those in need, and his words had changed how she viewed the Templars. She had always assumed Templars joined from a fear of magic, a desire to control that which they saw as dangerous. She had never thought that maybe they wanted to protect people; not just those who could be harmed by magic, but mages as well. She could tell, that day, how earnestly he had meant it, how earnestly he had believed in that purpose.

            His determination to join the Inquisition showed that he was trying to find his way back to that desire to protect those in need. He was trying to move past the fear and distrust that he had experienced after Calenhad. She realized he had to have come a long way if he had actually let her use magic to help ease his withdrawal symptoms. She found herself wishing desperately that he could see the things that she could see in him. The eagerness to protect, the desire to help others, the kindness and warmth that she knew were essential parts of him. She could tell now, there was a time he may have been like the other Templars, but she knew he couldn’t have started off that way. He certainly wasn’t that way now. He had simply gone through the unimaginable, and lost sight of who he had once been as he tried to recover.

            Evelyn tried to criticize his actions in Kirkwall, she tried to summon anger. But all she felt was a deep sadness as she thought about how he must have felt then, how broken he must have been to behave the way he had. It was clear how deeply he regretted his actions, how much he wanted to make up for them. He deserved the chance to do so.

            She wished she could erase the pain from him, and help him move past it. She ached with helplessness, and gripped her hands on the railing of the balcony as she felt overwhelmed with it. She already knew what she wanted. She still wanted him, she still wanted him to let her care for him and help him through it all. She still wanted him to carry her and comfort her as she struggled to save Thedas and lead the Inquisition. She knew she needed him as much as he needed her. But he needed time, she could tell, to come to terms with the idea that someone could love him - flaws, traumas, and all – as she knew she could.

            As she realized she did.

 

 

 

            Evelyn wandered through the courtyard, observing the preparations for their march to Adamant Fortress. She was lost in thought as she had been for days, thinking about what they were preparing to do and whether or not they would succeed. She was trying to focus on being the Inquisitor, trying not to think about Cullen or how much she missed him. They had seen each other at war council meetings, but they had barely acknowledged each other, only speaking when necessary as they planned their assault in the Western Approach. The look on his face each time she saw him made her heart ache, but she could tell he still needed time. She hadn’t tried to approach him to talk, even though she wished desperately to do so. She had said they both needed time, and she needed to keep her word.

            As she walked through the courtyard, she saw the strange boy Cole sitting on the ground also watching their forces prepare. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and decided to walk over to speak with him. “Hello, Cole,” she greeted, and he looked up at her from underneath his wide-brimmed hat. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around recently.”

            “Yes, you have,” he answered in his strange voice.

            She frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

            “We’ve spoken several times, but…” he seemed hesitant.

            “But what?”

             “You were distressed after we did, and I made you forget.”

            “You made me forget that we’d spoken?” she folded her arms as she watched him. “Cole, if you’re going to stay here, I need you to not ever do that to me. Understood?”

            “I -” he looked away from her. “I was trying to help.”

            “What did we speak of, why was I distressed?”

            “You were thinking about your mother,” he answered. “You wondered if things would have been different, if you’d written back to her. But it was already too late. When you received her letter, she was already gone. There was nothing you could have done.”

            Evelyn felt a lump of emotion catch in her throat, and she was unable to respond, clutching her folded arms tighter to her chest.

            “You feel guilty, that you kept yourself from going home to visit,” he continued. “You did it to protect yourself, but you tell yourself you did it to protect them. You thought it would be too painful to go home, that you’d never want to leave again. So you never did. But now Bron and your mother are gone, and you can’t get that time back.”

            Evelyn felt tears welling in her eyes. “And you made me forget that we spoke about this?” she asked after a moment, trying to keep her voice even.

            “Yes,” he said. “You were upset, and I hadn’t helped at all. The pain is too deep, I couldn’t figure out how to help you with it. So I made you forget instead.”

            “Was there anything else?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

            “You were thinking about your mother because you worry you’ll do the same thing now, that you’ll keep yourself away from him to protect both of you from pain.” Cole looked back up at her. “I tried to help him. I tried to tell him you would understand. But he doesn’t think he deserves you. You’re a chance to atone for his past, but he’s scared he’ll ruin it, that he hasn’t really changed. He wants to protect you but he thinks all he’s done is hurt you. He can’t believe you could truly care about him if you knew everything he went through.”

            “When did you try to help him?”

            “After Haven. I told him about how you walked through the snow to find him. I told him you meant what you said to him when he found you.”

            “What?” Evelyn took a step closer. “What did I say?”

            “‘Cullen, have to surprise him, have to make it back to Cullen,’” Cole replied in a monotone voice, as though repeating something from memory. Evelyn remembered repeating it as she tried to will herself through the snow, in agonizing pain from her injuries and the cold. “You touched his scar, you smiled up at him. You said his name and he held you to him, thanking the Maker for returning you to his arms.”

            “Did you make him forget as well?” she asked, trying to understand.

            “No,” Cole replied. “He needed to know. I helped him. I wanted him to let himself hope, though he didn’t think he should. He didn’t think he was worthy of hope.”

            “So he remembers that you spoke?”

            “Yes,” Cole said. “He thinks about it often. He listens to you speak and remembers what I told him, hopes that maybe you could understand. It’s what he needed.”

            “I see,” Evelyn sighed and chewed her lip for a moment as she thought. “Please, Cole, don’t make me forget again, no matter how distressed I seem.”

            Cole nodded but remained silent.

            Evelyn turned away from him and walked briskly across the courtyard, weaving her way through the preparing forces as she made her way to the stairs. She mounted the steps, taking them two at a time as she raced up to his tower office. She opened his door without knocking and walked in, slightly out of breath from her haste.

            Cullen was sitting at his desk, an unused pile of compresses sitting beside him as he pored over a report. He was holding his forehead in his hand and scowling deeply as he read the parchment before him. He didn’t look up when she entered, as though he hadn’t heard anyone come into the room.

            “Cullen,” she said, and approached his desk. His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and she saw a mixture of emotions cross his face. He looked pained.

            “Inquisitor,” he greeted stiffly. “How can I help?”

            She took the chair across from him, perching on the edge of the seat and thinking for a moment before she spoke. “I wanted to ask you something, if you have a moment.”

            “I’m busy, so unless it is about the march to Adamant Fortress -” he began, turning his face down to his report, his tone still forced and distant.

            “Cullen, please,” she urged. “I need to speak with you.”

            He gave a resigned sigh and looked up, folding his hands on top of his desk as he waited for her.

            “Why did you join the Inquisition?” she asked.

            He frowned, obviously confused. “I told you, I wanted to help restore order.”

            “Why?” she prompted.

            “I -” he hesitated, thinking carefully. She kept her gaze on his face, trying to read the emotions there as she waited for him to answer. “I felt responsible, I suppose. I wanted to try to redeem myself and right my wrongs, from Kirkwall.”

            “And protect people?” she surmised. He nodded. “That’s the same reason you joined the Order, correct?”

            “Yes, but I -” he hesitated. “I was horrible at protecting, as it turned out.”

            “I don’t think so, not really - or at least, not always,” she disagreed. “Cullen, I’ve been thinking. I can’t even begin to comprehend what you must have been through, and at first it was hard for me to accept what you said about your time in Kirkwall.”

            She paused and saw the muscles in his jaw clench, but he said nothing, so she took a deep breath and continued.

            “You went through something truly traumatic, and I think it changed you, but it didn’t make you a bad person. You have been through the worst magic has to offer, and it’s understandable that it made you distrustful and fearful. But your work with the Inquisition now, the way you’ve treated me, a mage, and the fact that you’re trying to break the chains of lyrium – Cullen, I wish you could see how hard you’re trying to be a better person.”

            He looked down and again she saw his cheeks flex as though he was trying to suppress his emotions.

            “I see how hard you’re trying, I see how hard you’re struggling, how much you want to be that young boy again. The one who joined the Templars because he could think of no greater purpose than protecting others,” she told him. “What you went through doesn’t have to define you. You can be that protector again, warm and kind and helping others. It’s still inside you. I wish you could see it as plainly as I do.”

            He shook his head and buried his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on the desk and looking thoroughly dejected.

            “Cullen, please look at me,” she pleaded. Slowly he raised his gaze to hers, and the haunted look in his eyes tore through her. “I forgive you. And I care about you. I want to help you, but I understand if you still need some time. Just please, think about what I’ve said.”

            “I’m a broken man, I told you that,” he said, his voice tremulous, and Evelyn felt emotion catch in her throat as she listened to him. “No matter how hard I try, I always will be. You deserve better than that.”

            “But you’re trying your best, and that’s all any of us can ever do,” she murmured. “If you would let me, I’d like to help you.”

            He hung his head again and she stood up. She hesitated to do it, but she walked around the desk to the pile of compresses lying on the edge of the desk. She picked one up and felt that it was losing its iciness, and she gently ran her fingers over it to weave the ice back into it. Once more it was cold to the touch, and she held it out to him. “Please, Cullen, take care of yourself. We leave for Adamant tomorrow, and the Inquisition needs you – I need you.”

            Cullen took the compress without looking at her, and she saw him swallow and hesitate before he held it to his forehead. She resisted the urge to touch him, knowing he was struggling, and she silently excused herself from the office.

 

* * *

 

            Cullen sat rigidly on his horse, stiff from how long they had been riding and how long it had been since he’d journeyed this far by horseback. His head was aching and his hands shook where he gripped the reins, occasionally making his mount stagger, thinking he was trying to direct him in a different direction or get him to stop. He had put the compress down as soon as Evelyn had left his office a few days ago, and hadn’t allowed himself another one since. Adan had brought the means to make them and had offered them to him each night at camp, but he had refused, saying he felt fine. He deserved his pain, and he refused to accept her help with it.

            He felt ashamed that he was disobeying her request to take care of himself for their assault on Adamant, but he didn’t know how much of a difference the compresses would make. Ever since the night she had brought up the Tranquil Solution, he hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t had a moment where he wasn’t in pain. The nightmares he suffered had turned into overwhelming daytime anxieties instead, plaguing him while he tried to focus on the preparations. He had gone to Cassandra, begging her to replace him for their journey, but she had refused and ordered him to take a sleeping draught. She told him he just needed sleep, and made sure he had taken the draught the night before they left. It was the only sleep he’d had in a week, but even with the draught he woke up in a panic after only a few hours.

            Now he sat on his horse, nearly at Adamant Fortress, doubting his ability to lead the forces of the Inquisition. His withdrawal had gotten so much worse. He rode along the lines of soldiers as they marched, trying to patrol and inspect their surroundings, but he couldn’t focus on anything except the words she had said to him only a few days before. He wished desperately to believe her, to see himself the way she did, but he couldn’t see past his shame and self-loathing. Cullen felt utterly hopeless now that he had seen the way she had looked at him, the way she had pulled back when she asked him about Kirkwall. Despite her assurances, the image was burned into his memory, and he wasn’t sure he would ever forget it. He couldn’t let himself forget. He needed to keep himself away from her; he couldn’t hurt her as he had ever again.

            Evelyn looked his way occasionally as they rode, but she said nothing to him, still trying to give him the distance she had said she would. At their camp after nightfall she sat amongst her companions, all of whom were accompanying them, taking her place between Dorian and Varric as always. She sat listening to them speak but said little herself. Cullen’s shame increased when he realized she looked sad, staring into the fire and engaging little with those around her. She wasn’t even drawn out of her shell by Dorian’s usual playful flirtations, and when the Tevinter reached over to her fingers Cullen saw her pull away from his touch, which she never had before. It was like she didn’t want to be comforted, like she didn’t think it would help.

            He wished he had never kissed her, had never let himself give in to his desire and had kept her at arm’s length like he had intended. If he had, she wouldn’t be in so much pain now. He continually failed to protect her. All he’d ever done was hurt her.


	34. Adamant

            The siege was about to begin. Cullen stood inspecting the position of their forces, consulting with his second about their plan of attack. He was so engrossed in preparations he didn’t realize she was standing beside him.

            “Commander,” Evelyn said. “Are your forces ready?”

            He looked down at her and gave a nod. He hadn’t been this close to her in days, and now that he looked at her beside him, he felt overwhelmed by the knowledge of what they were about to do. The assault on the fortress was going to take everything they had, maybe even their lives. He wanted to say something, he wanted to apologize again, but he found himself at a loss for words. She was staring at him intently, her lips tight as her eyes wandered over his face.

            “Cullen,” she began, but fell silent. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Promise me – promise me you’ll stay safe. Don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk. Don’t…don’t do anything to punish yourself, please.”

            He clenched his jaw and looked away from her; a nod all he could manage. She stood silently beside him a moment longer, and then walked away to join her companions for their charge. He shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Then he gave the order for the siege to begin.

* * *

 

            It had come out of nowhere. Evelyn hadn’t expected it to show up. They had made their way through the Fortress, fighting demons, Grey Wardens, and Venatori who were present and helping create Corypheus’ demon army. But then a mighty roar rent the air and Evelyn froze where she stood as she tried to reason with the Warden-Commander. Clarel’s eyes widened in shock when she saw it. The sudden shift in the Grey Wardens’ attention caused renewed chaos in the fighting.

            Corypheus’ Archdemon was there, flying low over the Fortress and attacking the forces on the battlements. Evelyn began shouting orders, trying to get her companions to follow her, but the cacophony of battle and the dragon’s roars made it difficult for them to hear her. She saw Clarel charge off, trying to reach the Archdemon, and she instinctively followed at a sprint, throwing lightning at the demons in her path as they tried to attack her. She heard footsteps behind her; she looked over her shoulder and saw Hawke and Stroud right behind her. She refocused her attention on trying to catch up to the Warden-Commander.

            She watched as Clarel launched herself at the Archdemon, throwing herself off the battlements at it. She landed on the dragon’s neck, she was attacking it, and it fell at the bridge Evelyn and the others were racing across. Evelyn continued her charge, throwing lightning at the Archdemon, but the collision with the bridge had been stronger than she realized. The bridge buckled, it was collapsing, and she skidded to a halt and tried to turn. Hawke and Stroud stumbled behind her, and she saw others behind them tripping as well as the Archdemon brought the bridge down beneath them.

            Evelyn felt herself falling; she could see the ground far below her. In a moment of desperation, she did the only thing she could think of and threw her left palm out. She felt the energy course through her and the green glow of a rift was suddenly before her as she fell.

 

* * *

 

            Cullen was sprinting down the bridge, trying to reach the end. He had seen Evelyn and the others charge, had seen the Archdemon hit the bridge. He had tried to catch up, had tried to follow, but he had been too far away, had been too tired to run faster and reach them in time. He was trying desperately to reach the spot, trying to see past the cloud of dust that lingered in the air from the impact. He finally reached the end and saw that the bridge had collapsed, and no one was in sight.

            He threw aside his sword and shield and flung himself to his knees at the edge of the bridge, looking down into the ravine. He was searching for any sign of them, any sign of her.

            Nothing. He couldn’t see anything, no trace of any of them remained. There was a faint glimmer of green through the air that reminded him of a rift, but there wasn’t one in sight.

            “No, no, no, no,” he muttered, looking around frantically. Where was she? She had to be there. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe she hadn’t fallen. But he was alone at the end of the bridge, and he couldn’t see where Evelyn had gone.

            He roared in frustration, throwing his head back as he vented his anger and desperation at the sky. He had failed, again. She had gone where he couldn’t follow, where he couldn’t protect her. He was helpless.


	35. The Fade

            Evelyn opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position, taking in her strange surroundings. The air was full of green mist, everything rocky and craggy. Vaguely it looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember when she’d been here before.

            She saw Hawke and Stroud also trying to sit up beside her, and beyond them she saw Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric. She had tried to call to her companions, all of them had been fighting beside her, but she hadn’t known if any had heard her. When she saw the other three, she realized they must have seen her charge off, must have realized she was heading for the Archdemon, and had followed. Of all of her companions, she wasn’t surprised to see her three closest, most loyal friends following close at her heels, no matter where she led them. She felt her stomach twist in knots until she felt nearly sick as she realized she didn’t know where she had led them this time. Or whether or not she would be able to return them unharmed.

            “Oh this is not right, this is not -” she heard Hawke begin to say as she looked around. “Shit. We’re in the Fade. This is not normal. We shouldn’t be here.”

            “Sparkles, what did you do?” Varric asked as he stood and looked around them.

            Evelyn pushed herself to her feet and looked around. “I – we were falling, I did the first thing I could think of…”

            “Open a rift into the Fade?” Dorian questioned, glaring at her. “Did you take a blow to the head during the fighting?”

            Evelyn looked around them, taking deep breaths. “We can fix this…We can get out of here.”

            “You did before, right?” Hawke questioned.

            “Yes, but…I don’t remember how,” Evelyn admitted.

            Hawke grumbled and began walking in circles, her hands on her head as she thought. “All right – all right, we’ll just…leave, I guess? Just walk out? That worked for you before, right?”

            “We’re not getting anywhere just standing around,” Varric sighed.

            “I agree,” Stroud chimed in. He looked unnerved.

            “This way,” Iron Bull pointed. His voice sounded different than normal, and Evelyn noticed his hand shook a little when he pointed out the path.

            They walked for some time, following a winding staircase surrounded by jagged rocks. Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a figure standing before them, dressed in the robes of the Chantry.

            “Is that…Divine Justinia?” she addressed the figure before her. The woman before them nodded. “Are you really here?”

            “A spirit, no doubt,” Hawke mused.

            “You doubt my survival, yet here you stand alive in the Fade, yourselves,” Justinia said.

            “What are you doing here?” Evelyn asked.

            “I am here to help you,” she answered.

            “Help us?” Stroud questioned.

            “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor,” the Divine began. “Your memories are here, stolen from you by the demon who resides here, a demon who serves Corypheus.”

            “What?” Evelyn whispered.

            “I can help you find them, but you must be quick,” Justinia informed her. “I will show you the way to your memories before you return.”

            “We can’t trust her,” Bull suddenly chimed in. “Got to be a demon, Boss.”

            “But if I could remember,” Evelyn hesitated. “Maybe I could find out what Corypheus had intended, why I have the Anchor.”

            “Don’t trust her,” Hawke warned.

            “Why would you help us?” Evelyn questioned the figure that appeared to be the Divine.

            “You need your memories back – you need to remember what happened. You chose this, Inquisitor, but you don’t remember why,” and with that the figure began to glide away.

            “Wait – what do you mean?” Evelyn called after the retreating woman, but the Divine continued to lead the way further into the Fade.

            “Sparkles wait -” Varric began, but Evelyn had taken off at a sprint after the gliding form, trying to discover where it would lead her.

            She followed the Divine for some time, running across the cragged, rocky Fade. Her desire to escape had been replaced by an intense need to find the truth behind what had happened. Finally she found herself in a rocky ravine, and a glowing light was shining in the middle, the Divine standing beside it.

            “These are your memories,” Justinia said. “You need them, but I must warn you – the demon will know you are here once you take them. It will try to stop your escape.”

            Evelyn paused before the glowing orb, considering. Her companions stopped behind her, panting as they tried to catch their breath from chasing after her.

            “Evelyn, I wouldn’t recommend -” Dorian tried to warn her, but she shook her head.

            “I have to know,” she murmured, and reached a hand out to the glowing orb.

            It began like a dream, queued up and ready to play in her mind as soon as she touched the orb.

            _Grey Wardens surrounded the Divine, who was suspended in the air by magic, as though in preparation for a ritual. Corypheus approached, an orb in his hand, speaking the words she had heard echo through the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Divine Justinia called out for help, and the doors opened a moment later. Evelyn saw herself open the door and run into the room._

_“What’s going on here?”she demanded, trying to take in the scene before her._

_Divine Justinia took her chance. She hit the glowing orb from Corypheus’ grasp, and it bounced and rolled across the floor. Evelyn saw herself run to it, without hesitation, without second-guessing her actions. She picked it up from the ground and fell to the floor as the magic in the orb erupted, searing the Anchor onto her palm as she cried out in agony. Corypheus charged her, but the room exploded, expanded, everything in chaos._

_Then she and the Divine were running through the Fade, away from rotting corpses that chased them. Or were they corpses? Now that Evelyn looked at them she realized they looked more like demons. They were almost at a rift, almost about to escape, when the demons grabbed Justinia. Evelyn turned around, tried to grab the Divine’s hand, tried to pull her to the rift. The Divine looked at her, said, “Save yourself. Go!” and Evelyn reluctantly left her behind and turned to escape before the demons overwhelmed her as well._

            With a gasp Evelyn fell to her knees, pulled out of the memory as it ended.

            “Are you all right?” she heard beside her, and she felt Hawke’s hand on her back as she gently shook Evelyn, trying to snap her back to reality.

            “I’m – I’m fine,” Evelyn breathed. “In fact, I’m…better than fine. I remember. I remember what happened.”

            She pushed herself back into a standing position and looked around at her companions.

            “Mind sharing?” Dorian asked.

            “It – it was the Wardens,” Evelyn looked at Stroud as she spoke. “The Wardens helped Corypheus with his ritual. They tried to help him kill the Divine.”

            “What?” Hawke said sharply.

            “I saw them. It was a ritual, Corypheus had an orb. The same one he had with him when he attacked Haven,” Evelyn continued. “The Divine, she called out for help, and I…I remember now. I was walking by, just wandering the Temple when I heard a cry for help - and I ran into the room.”

            The realization came upon her suddenly, and the insight left her momentarily speechless. What she had seen, what she knew she had done, changed everything for her in that moment. For the first time in her life, she had acted without hesitation. None of her usual self-doubt, none of her usual hesitancy to act had held her back. She had raced into the room when she heard the Divine’s cries, she had rushed to grab the orb without hesitation. She hadn’t known, she thought she had been some victim of circumstance, but now she understood what her guide had meant when she said she had chosen it. She had acted instinctively. She had chosen to do something about what was happening.

            “Are you all right, little bird?” Dorian asked. He sounded incredibly concerned.

            “She’s right. I chose to do this,” Evelyn looked up at her companions. “I chose to act. I chose to interfere with Corypheus’ plans. I was trying to stop him. I didn’t know how I could, but I tried anyway. For the first time in my life, I didn’t hesitate.”

            “Ahhh, little Lady Trevelyan,” a deep voice echoed around them through the Fade. “Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, naïve, sheltered little girl from Ostwick. A pleasant surprise to find you visiting here again.”

            “Who are you?” Evelyn shouted into the air, looking around the ravine.

            “I am the owner of this particular bit of the Fade. It has been some time since you visited. But I see you have found that which I was hiding from you,” the voice replied.

            “A demon,” Dorian murmured beside Evelyn.

            “Yes, well, let’s not stay to chat,” Hawke said. “We need to get out of here.”

            “I can show you the way,” the Divine’s likeness chimed in.

            “Quickly,” Evelyn agreed.

            The Divine glided away from them and they followed at a run. As they ran across the Fade, figures began to approach, and Evelyn stumbled when she realized they were corpses.

            “Shit,” she heard Iron Bull mutter from behind her. “Are you guys seeing this?”

            “That depends on what you’re seeing,” Varric answered as he slowed down. Evelyn and the rest of her companions all slowed as well, looking around.

            The corpses were surrounding them, but Evelyn tried to remind herself that they couldn’t possibly be corpses. They were likely demons, as she had seen in the memory.

            “Demons,” she murmured.

            “Definitely,” Hawke agreed beside her. “We need to get out of here.”

            But something caught Evelyn’s eye, and she lost the ability to think about escaping.

            The corpses were getting closer, and she realized she recognized them. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, Dorian, Varric, Iron Bull, Sera…all of her companions were approaching. Their flesh was rotting, decaying, as they walked slowly toward her. And then finally one of them, his shoulders covered in a torn red mantle, blood soaking his armor and covering his rotted flesh, made his way to the front and walked to her.

            Cullen.

            “No,” she whispered, backing away as Cullen’s corpse approached her. “No, it can’t be you. You can’t be here…”

            _“Sparkles?”_

_“Inquisitor -”_

            But the corpse was reaching out to her, the haunted look in his dead eyes paralyzing her with fear. “Why didn’t you save me, Evelyn?” he asked, his voice so full of despair she felt tears spring to her eyes as she looked at him.

            “No, Cullen, you’re not dead, you’re not -”

            _“Little bird! Snap out of it!”_

            “Did you really think you could save him? Do you think you can help him overcome his addiction, break the chains that bind him? He worries that he doesn’t deserve you, that he’s failed you, but you will fail him. You will fail them all, little mage. You will fail, like you failed Bron and your mother,” the echoing voice of the demon called out to her. “You can’t win. So naïve, thinking you even had a chance.”

            _“Inquisitor! Inquisitor listen to me -”_

_“Watch out! Bull, it’s us! Calm down!”_

_“Shit!”_

            Everything beyond the corpses surrounding her was foggy. More corpses were appearing beyond, and she saw familiar faces among them. Recruits she had watched train, Senior Enchanters from the Circle, and then the First Enchanter, Gabrielle. Her mother and Bron approached her to stand behind Cullen, hatred etched on their decaying faces. She could see nothing but the rotted flesh of her friends, her allies, Cullen’s dead eyes, grey and no longer warm and golden as he stood before her.

            “No, no, no, not Cullen, please, no,” she was sobbing. He had his hands on her shoulders, gripping her painfully tight and shaking her. “It isn’t – I didn’t -”

            “You couldn’t save me, you let me die. You failed all of us,” he said. “Thedas is burning, Corypheus brought it all crashing down. He succeeded. You didn’t stop him. Why didn’t you save us? Why didn’t you save me?”

            “NO!” she screamed in agonized despair, falling to her knees and covering her head with her hands as he loomed over her. “I didn’t – I didn’t…”

            _“Evelyn!”_

            A bright flash of fire tore through the air before her and it caught the corpse of Cullen in its path. She looked up to see all of the corpses aflame, but they were changing, shifting, and Evelyn saw that they weren’t corpses after all.

            Hawke stood beside her, the air around her swirling with fire as she threw flame after flame at the demons that surrounded Evelyn and her companions. Fury was shining in the Champion’s eyes as they reflected the fire and glowed golden, and when the last of the demons fell she gave a wicked smile of triumph. Her eyes fell on Evelyn and she sighed with relief when she saw that the Inquisitor was aware of her surroundings again. “Ready to rejoin us, Evelyn?”

            “I -” Evelyn buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I knew…I knew they were demons, but -”

            “Happens to the best of us,” Hawke reassured her. “Your Qunari friend seems to be quite shaken up as well, so don’t be too hard on yourself. He’s five times your size and cowering like a baby.”

            Evelyn looked aside to see Bull on his hands and knees, shaking. Dorian approached him cautiously, trying to reassure him with soft words. She noticed that Varric and Stroud looked just as shaken by what had happened.

            “It must be showing us all our greatest fears,” Hawke mused. “Quite clever, and frankly diabolical. Luckily my biggest fear is moldy bread – not really all that intimidating, just hard to look at. Amusing in mass quantity though, as it turns out.”

            But Evelyn noticed a forced humor in the way Hawke said it, and noticed that her hand was resting on her belly as she took deep breaths.

            “We should get going,” Evelyn murmured, and she stood, her legs shaking slightly beneath her. She couldn’t get the image of Cullen’s cold dead eyes out of her mind.

 

* * *

 

            “We need to clear a path!” Evelyn yelled, staring at the massive demon that had appeared between them and the exit.

            “I’ll cover you, go!” Hawke shouted, and she conjured flames in between her fingers as she spoke, preparing for battle.

            “No. You said the Wardens did this. A Warden must -” Stroud countered.

            “A Warden must help them rebuild! That’s your job, Stroud!” Hawke argued.

            “Hawke, no -” Varric tried to interrupt desperately.

            Evelyn looked between the two, realizing that someone would have to stay behind if the rest of them hoped to make it out. She wanted to try to find another way, but the monstrous demon suddenly began to charge.

            “Stroud,” she said, locking eyes with the Warden.

            He nodded solemnly. “It has been an honor, Inquisitor,” he told her, and he turned and raised his sword and shield as he charged the demon to block its path and distract it, allowing the others to escape.

            “No, wait -” Hawke protested, but Evelyn and Varric grabbed her arms and pulled her toward their escape. They charged through the rift and fell. Evelyn rolled along the ground when she made contact, coming to a stop and pushing herself quickly to her feet to look around.

            She was back in the courtyard of Adamant Fortress, where the Wardens had been performing their rituals with Erimond. The Wardens and Inquisition forces around them all stepped back, staring in awe at the small group who had just exited the Fade. Evelyn stepped forward, shaking. She was exhausted, she longed desperately for a warm bed. Her use of the Anchor, her fears in the Nightmare, the taunting cries against all of them from the demon and the fight to defeat it, the decision to leave Stroud - all of it had drained her. She could tell her magic was far weaker than normal, and she struggled to stay upright. But she had to address the Wardens. She steeled herself, took a steadying breath. She had to end this.


	36. Difficult Decisions

            Cullen pushed through the soldiers before him, staring disbelievingly at the center of the courtyard. Evelyn was pushing herself to her feet as a rift closed behind her and her companions. Greenish black smoke was coming off of her, and several soldiers and Wardens around him fell to their knees at the terrifying sight she posed. He watched as she took in the crowd around her, and he realized she had a blazing fury in her eyes as she looked around at the Wardens. He frowned and tried to get closer. He wanted to rush forward, wanted to grab her and hold her in his arms to reassure himself it was really her. But he saw the look in her eyes and knew she needed to be the Inquisitor, and he needed to let her speak.

            He listened as she chastised the Wardens, as Hawke and she discussed what had happened. He watched her grapple with the decision of what to do with the Wardens. He knew few others would notice the subtle way she struggled with it, the way her lips tightened as she thought, as she weighed the consequences of her actions. He marveled at how even she tried to make her tone, but he recognized the exhaustion in her voice as she declared the Wardens conscripted into the Inquisition to make up for their wrongdoing.

            Evelyn stepped off the dais she stood on and began to push her way through the crowd surrounding her. She was moving slowly, as though each step were difficult. He pushed forward to meet her, and she raised her gaze to his as he approached. The look in her eyes was indecipherable, as though she dreaded what he may say, as though she was frightened and miserable at the sight of him.

            “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached her and fell into step with her. Her pace was still so slow, and he wished he could carry her away from this place, all the way back to Skyhold to rest.

            “I’ve been better,” she murmured as she continued her way through the Fortress. “How many did we lose?”

            “Not as many as I feared we would. The battle went surprisingly well considering the force we were up against,” he answered. “The Venatori magister is still alive, as well. I’ve held him for your judgment. Some of our Templars have him ready for transport back to Skyhold.”

            She grumbled under her breath, and he was pretty sure he heard the words “bastard” and “throw him off a cliff” and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He was so relieved she was back that he kept his eyes on her the whole time she walked beside him. She glanced up at his chuckle and gave him a curious quirk of her brow.

            “I’m sorry, Inquisitor, I’m just…relieved you’re back,” he said, and she suddenly stopped and stared at him. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

            Evelyn placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. “I’m…exhausted,” she answered warily. “My magic is sapped, using the Anchor – it took a lot out of me. I feel dizzy, is all. I just need a moment.”

            “I – Evelyn, I could -” he began, unsure if she would accept his help.

            “No, I’m fine,” she seemed to snap herself out of it and continued on her way. He followed a few paces behind her, just in case she needed him. She seemed almost irritated by his presence, and he wondered at her thoughts.

            They were almost out of the Fortress when he heard footsteps running behind them. “Evelyn, we need to talk -”

            “No, Hawke, we don’t,” the Inquisitor snapped, and continued her insistent but slow pace. Hawke caught up with them and grabbed Evelyn’s arm to stop her walking. The Inquisitor whirled to face her with a glare. “Let go of me.”

            “You should have left me behind, Stroud needed to return to the Wardens,” Hawke released her and crossed her arms as Evelyn took a step back. The Champion was much taller than the Inquisitor, but in Evelyn’s sudden fury she held herself so straight she looked even more intimidating than the taller woman.

            “I made my choice, Hawke, and it’s too late to change it now,” she answered, her voice severe, and Cullen felt a slight crackle of energy in the air around her.

            “Why, though?” Hawke demanded. “Why did you choose me?”

            “Damned if I know, since you seem to be incredibly ungrateful to be alive right now,” Evelyn’s voice was rising, shaking with emotion.

            “Inquisitor, please,” Cullen stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. He was worried about the increasing buzz in the air around her. She’d said she was exhausted and he worried she was draining what little strength she had left. She yanked away from him and turned her glare on him. He held his hands up and stepped back again.

            “That’s not what I’m angry about,” Hawke countered, ignoring Cullen’s interruption completely.

            “Then what? Was I supposed to defer to your judgment after you helped me through my fears? Did you think me weak after I collapsed, and expect me to let the Champion make the decisions after that? Not used to someone else leading, not when the great Champion of Kirkwall is around?” the Inquisitor spat. She looked close to tears.

            “No, I -” Hawke stared at the other woman, frowning. “I just don’t see why. Stroud was the smarter choice.”

            “Maybe you’re right, maybe he was,” Evelyn scoffed, and she turned away from the Champion. Hawke’s frown deepened as she stared at the other woman’s back.

            “I just meant…I just -” Hawke turned a confused look to Cullen, who stared silently between the two women, utterly dumbfounded by their argument.

            “Fenris,” Evelyn said suddenly, not turning back to face Hawke. “It’s because of what you said about Fenris.”

            Tears sprang into Hawke’s eyes and she placed a hand on her stomach as if the emotion she felt pained her. “I am grateful,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “More than you could know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt – it’s just, Stroud was a good man, and a friend.”

            “I know he was,” the Inquisitor whispered. “I’m so sorry I had to do it.”

            Evelyn suddenly staggered where she stood, and Cullen lunged forward to catch her as she fell. He pulled her against him and tried to steady her. “Evelyn, are you all right?”

            She clutched his arms, her face was buried against his chest, and she slowly shook her head against his armor. “Cullen, will you carry me?” she asked, her voice shaky and weak.

            He instantly stooped and lifted her into his arms. She placed a hand on the fur of his mantle and held it as he carried her. He gave Hawke a jerky nod of his head, ignored the curious expression on the Champion’s face as she watched him, and continued on his way to the Inquisition’s encampment. He walked purposefully, feeling more confident in his actions than he had since she had returned to Skyhold over a week before.

            After they had walked some distance in silence, he glanced down at her and asked, “Are you injured?”

            She gave a small shake of her head. “No, just…overwhelmed. Exhausted. I just want to sleep.”

            He didn’t know what made him do it, but instead of carrying her to the small tent she had set up for herself among her companions’, he carried her to the larger tent where he had organized the siege. There was a small makeshift cot, covered in a wool blanket, and he set her on the edge of it. He knelt before her and began to remove her boots, unlacing them carefully and sliding them off her feet. She sat watching him, one hand still holding on to his mantle, and bittersweet memories swam across his mind at the familiar gesture.

            He helped her to her feet and out of her leather coat. He removed the scabbard from her belt and held it for a moment, staring at it and fingering the leather’s embossed design. She began to pull at the buckles of her armor and he snapped out of his reverie. “I -” he began but she didn’t stop fumbling with her armor.

            “I want out of this damn armor,” she muttered desperately, and he noticed her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she said it. Her lips were tight, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly. She struggled with a fastening and gave a frustrated sob when she couldn’t get it undone. Tears began to slide down her cheeks.

            “Here, let me,” he murmured, and he gently pushed her trembling hands aside and began to undo her armor. She stood silently, tears streaming down her cheeks as he slowly and carefully removed her armor. He tried to stay focused, keeping his eyes averted as best as he could as he stripped her. When he had the last piece off of her he turned and stepped away to keep himself from looking at her nearly naked form before him. He saw one of his shirts lying on the back of his chair and held it out behind him. “If you’d like…”

            She took the shirt from him and he waited a moment before he turned to face her. When he did the breath caught in his throat. His shirt was long enough it covered halfway down her thighs, but the lacings on its front went almost to her belly button, revealing the creamy valley between her breasts. It was a captivating sight that stirred something deep inside him with the simple knowledge that she was wearing his shirt. After a moment he cleared his throat and shook himself before he walked around her to pull the blanket back on his cot. “You can sleep here, I’ll make sure no one disturbs you,” he told her.

            When she made no move to get in he looked over at her. She had stopped crying, but was staring at him with pain evident on her face. “Will you stay with me?” she whispered.

            “I’ll work at my desk, I’ll be here all night,” he told her, and again gestured at the bed. She shook her head.

            “No, Cullen, please – hold me,” her lips tightened again. “What I just went through, I…I can’t be alone. I need you.”

            He straightened slowly and nodded. With slow resolve he began to remove his own armor, not wanting for her to have to lie against its cold metal. He stripped down to his linen shirt and leather breeches and gestured to the cot. She crawled in and moved to one side, leaving the rest of the space available for him. He took a deep breath and got in, and once he had lain back on the pillows she curled herself against him, her head on his shoulder, one arm and leg across him. He pulled the blanket over them and curved his arm down her back to hold her to him, his hand resting on her waist.

            “How long was I gone?” she murmured.

            “Several hours,” he answered, his voice low. “Were you – were you in the Fade?”

            “Yes,” she breathed. “I opened a rift as we fell. Is the Archdemon -”

            “It escaped, unfortunately,” he looked down and brushed the hair off her face.

            “Did I do the right thing? With the Wardens? Should I have – should I have banished them? Sent them away?”

            “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he murmured against her hair. “It was a tough decision, I’m not sure there was an easy answer.”

            “I left Stroud behind. I left him to die,” her voice was barely audible. She shifted her face against his shoulder and he could tell she was crying as the material of his shirt became wet with her tears. He reached up with his free hand and wiped the tears from her cheek, letting his thumb linger and stroke her cheek, his large hand cupping her face. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.

            “I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” he told her. She continued crying, and he wiped her tears as they fell, occasionally planting soft kisses against her hair as he let her release her sorrow.

            He didn’t think about what had happened before Adamant. He didn’t think about the misery he had felt, the devastation when she had walked away from him. All he knew was that she needed him now, and how relieved he felt to have her safe in his arms to comfort once more. The past disappeared as he held her, his own struggles fading away as he let himself fulfill his role as her devoted protector.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn woke with a start and sat up, crying out, her heart racing. She couldn’t see through the darkness, and she couldn’t tell where she was. “No – no – not -”

            A figure shifted beside her and strong arms pulled her against a muscular chest. “Shh, Evelyn, it’s all right, you’re safe,” a deep voice told her.

            She took a moment to recognize Cullen’s voice as he continued to hush her and hold her to him, rocking her slightly in his warm arms. He was stroking her hair, murmuring softly to her as he held her. She felt herself calming against him, her breathing slowing once more and her heart returning to its normal rhythm.

            “I - I was back in the nightmare, the Fade, it looked like -” she bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying to forget where her dreams had taken her.

            “You’re not, you’re here with me,” he whispered, and he tilted her head back so he could peer into her face. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see his worried frown as he gazed down at her.

            “Cullen,” she breathed, as she finally accepted that she was no longer dreaming. He was alive, his eyes warm, not cold and grey as they had been in the Fade. He gave a crooked grin when she said his name.

            “All right?” he questioned. She nodded, and he cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her softly on her forehead. “Go back to sleep, Evelyn. I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe now.”

            He reclined on the pillows, pulling her back with him, and she resumed her spot on his shoulder, rubbing her face lightly against his linen shirt. She wrapped an arm and leg across him as she snuggled herself tight against him, seeking all the warmth and comfort she could find in his embrace.

            “Nothing will hurt you while I’m here,” he murmured, sounding more like he was saying it to himself than to her. She closed her eyes and focused on his arms around her and his breathing. The soothing sound lulled her back to sleep as he tenderly stroked her hair.

 

 

 

            Voices drifted to her from nearby, and she felt herself slowly coming out of a deep sleep. She fluttered her eyelids, trying to adjust to the glow of light that greeted her vision. She reached a hand out to the side, but all she found was the wool of the blanket covering her and the pillow she laid upon. She was alone in the cot.

            Evelyn slowly sat up and looked around. Cullen’s tent was empty, but several candles were lit as though he had been in the tent, working at his desk as she slept. The voices sounded from outside the tent again, and she recognized one of them as his. She pushed the blanket off of her and tried to stand, and she felt every muscle in her body ache as she climbed off the cot. She had pushed herself past the point of exhaustion, she could tell. She wondered how long she had slept.

            She saw her armor hanging over the back of a chair, and looked down to see she was wearing one of Cullen’s shirts. Dimly she remembered him removing her armor; she had been in such a haze of weariness and despair the memories were slow to come back to her. She tightened the laces of his shirt, trying to cover her chest a bit better, but it was so big on her it was a pointless endeavor. She shrugged a little to herself and approached the flaps of the tent. His voice was still drifting to her from outside, and she wanted to see who he was speaking with.

            As soon as she reached the flap it opened and he appeared, holding a tray laden with water, bread, and cheese. He looked surprised to see her up, and she stepped back to let him into the tent.

            “Evelyn, I thought you were still asleep,” he said as he walked by her and set the tray on his desk. He took her by the hand and gently pulled her closer to one of the candles to inspect her. He tenderly pushed her hair from her face and held her chin, delicately turning her face this way and that as he looked her over. “How are you feeling?”

            “Famished, actually,” her stomach gave a growl to accompany her statement. He chuckled a little and stepped back, allowing her pick up the bread from the tray behind him. “How long was I asleep?”

            “It’s after midday,” he replied, watching her take a bite with a curious expression on his face.

            “Midday? I thought we were planning to leave at dawn,” she said after she finished chewing.

            “We’ve been a bit slow in going through Adamant and re-gathering our forces. We will remain here for a day to give our wounded time to rest before our journey back,” he informed her.

            “Surely not just because of me -” she began, but he shook his head with a crooked grin.

            “No, no - although even if it were just you, I’d insist that we stay,” he told her. “A one day delay back to Skyhold won’t cause any harm.”

            She moved to sit on the cot, curling her legs under her as she ate the bread and cheese he had brought for her. He took his seat behind his desk and watched her attentively, like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

            “I haven’t said thank you, yet,” she murmured after she had finished eating. She stared at her hands in her lap, unable to meet his gaze. “I know it must have been hard, after everything that happened before we left -”

            “It is no trouble,” he interrupted, and she looked up at him in surprise. He sounded like he meant it, not like he was just trying to reassure her. “I’m relieved you made it back safely.”

            She watched him for a few moments, noticing the crooked grin that played on his face. It reminded her of happier times, of a few stolen days that now seemed like they had been from someone else’s life. “I remembered,” she said, feeling a sudden urge to tell him.

            “Remembered what?” he prompted when she fell silent.

            “I remembered what happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” she told him.

            “You did?” he sounded slightly shocked, eager to hear more.

            “Yes, I -” she felt her voice crack, unsure why it was so hard to speak of. The realization she had had, that she had acted so swiftly, so determinedly and brought this on herself through her choice, had changed her. It had changed how she felt about being the Inquisitor, the Herald, and her role in everything. She no longer felt so helpless, no longer a victim of circumstance. “I was in the Temple, walking through the halls, just exploring before the Conclave began. And I heard a cry, I heard someone call for help. I ran into the room, and I interrupted Corypheus’ ritual. The Divine, she hit his orb out of his hand, and I – I picked it up, without hesitating. I wanted to keep it away from Corypheus, I wanted to stop whatever he was trying to do, even though I didn’t know how I could. I just…acted.”

            He was still watching her closely, an interesting look on his face. She took a deep breath to continue. “Cullen, this whole time, I’ve been thinking I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that I was some victim of horrible circumstance, but…” she sighed. “I chose this. For the first time in my life, I just ran ahead and did what needed to be done. I was brave -”

            “Like Bron,” he murmured, and she looked at him with a frown.

            “Yes,” she agreed quietly, stunned that he made the connection for her.

            He smiled at her, and the sight set her soul on fire. “I knew you had to have been sent to us. You’re exactly what we need.”


	37. A Changed Man

            He should be looking over the report on the state of Adamant Fortress, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision of her asleep on his cot. He had kept her with him in his tent all day, and she had lain in the cot to rest, watching him as he worked at his desk. He had frequently looked over to see her staring at him with a soft smile on her face, one arm tucked under her head on the pillow, her long black hair spread out behind her. The sight had been a pleasant distraction. They had had supper alone together, sitting on the cot with a tray between them, eating in peaceful silence. Occasionally he had reached over to brush her hair behind her ear, and she had nuzzled her cheek against his palm before he lowered his hand once more.

            He had insisted that she stay there overnight as well, insisted that the cot was more comfortable than her sleeping mat in her tent. But really he just hadn’t wanted her to leave his sight. She had agreed easily enough, and now he sat watching over her, jealously guarding her sleep.

            Cullen couldn’t shake the despair he had felt kneeling at the end of the bridge, unable to follow her into the Fade, unable to protect her from what she had faced. He thought about the previous night, remembered how many times she had woken up in the grip of terror, and hadn’t calmed down until she realized he was with her. He had been hesitant to join her in the bed, but the comfort he had provided her had soothed his soul as much as it seemed to have soothed hers. He had lain holding her all night, stroking her hair and thinking about what she had said to him before they had left for Adamant.

            He felt changed after watching her walk out of the Fade unharmed for a second time. The hours she had been gone he had prayed desperately that she would be brought back to him, as he had so many times before. He had begun to wonder if the Maker had finally decided he was unworthy of answering his prayers. He had hurt her, he had deceived her. He expected that the Maker would have abandoned him, ignored his prayers. He didn’t deserve His favor, not after what he had done. The feeling had left him feeling crazed, desperate and hopeless that she was gone and he couldn’t get her back, no matter how hard he prayed, no matter what he did. Yet again she had returned, and again she had needed his protection and comfort upon her return. He finally accepted his role completely, accepted that the Maker deemed him worthy of it. She had told him she needed him, and he allowed himself to believe it. He had renewed his vow as he held her slumbering form in his arms; he would always be there when she needed him.

            Evelyn stirred slightly on the cot, murmuring indistinctly in her sleep. Cullen glanced at the report on his desk and realized it was late. He could go over it in the morning. He stretched and began to remove his armor, setting it as quietly as he could on the floor until he stood in his leather breeches and loose shirt. He carefully lifted the edge of the blanket and slid under it to lay behind her on the cot, pulling her to him as he curved himself against her back. She sighed in her sleep and nestled into his arms. He buried his face against her hair to breathe in the smell of rain that was so much a part of her. For the first time in weeks, he felt himself drifting off into a peaceful sleep as he held her in his embrace.

 

* * *

 

            “You seem a changed man, Commander,” a soft voice said beside him, and he looked to see Hawke astride her horse, keeping pace with him.

            “I’ve tried to be,” he answered quietly, and he glanced at where Evelyn rode ahead of them.

            “That’s obvious,” Hawke agreed. “I never would have expected that the man who said mages weren’t really people could look at one the way you look at her.”

            Cullen felt his cheek muscles flex, his jaw clench, but he couldn’t manage a response. The memory filled him with too many emotions to trust his voice.

            “I just mean that it’s nice to see someone change for the better,” Hawke murmured. She rode silently beside him for a moment longer before she glanced his way again. “I never said thank you for that day.”

            Cullen chuckled. “No, actually, I think I remember you told me to go fu -”

            “Yes yes, I remember what I said,” Hawke interrupted. “Let me say thank you, now, at least. I know it’s nearly two years late, but…thank you, Cullen.”

            He nodded acknowledgement, his gaze still fixed ahead at where Evelyn rode.

            “You really should have let me heal that wound. It’s left quite the scar, I see,” Hawke mused, and he looked to see her staring at the corner of his mouth.

            “No, I’m glad I didn’t let you,” he said firmly.

            “Oh? Does it make you look more dashing – more ruggedly handsome, perhaps?” the Champion quipped.

            “It’s a reminder to be a better man,” he glanced at her to see a surprised look on her face.

            “Well then, I suppose you were right not to let me. It seems to be working,” and Hawke gave him a nod and guided her horse into a trot to catch up to Varric.

            The journey back to Skyhold was easier than the march to Adamant had been. He no longer felt unbearable pain at the thought of Evelyn or their discussions. He accepted the compresses Adan offered him, and his hands didn’t shake so much that he guided his horse like a drunkard. He rode back and forth along their caravan, checking their perimeter, able to focus on their surroundings as he did. He still felt himself struggling with his withdrawal, but for the moment his crippling doubt had left him. He had considered what she had said. He knew what he needed to do. The knowledge had reinvigorated his resolve.

            Instead of watching Evelyn from afar when they camped at night, he sat near her, around the same fire as her companions. He listened from her side as they all told stories. He watched her smile at Varric’s wild tales and laugh softly at Dorian’s flirtatious joking. She still seemed guarded, reserved, but he wondered if it was now because of the decisions she had had to make, of the difficulties she had faced at Adamant. When she caught his eye she no longer looked so despondent, but he still detected a touch of lingering sadness in her gaze.

            He let her have her time to rest, to adjust after everything she had been through, deciding not to bring up their discussion just yet. But he sat next to her, and let her lean her head on his mantle after everyone else had retired for the evening. She seemed unwilling to go to sleep and face the Fade after what had happened in the nightmare. So he stayed up late with her, and let her rest against him as she read from the book of poems he had given her for her birthday. He saw her frown when she came upon notes he had scribbled in the margins, passages he had underlined, and she would trace her fingers softly along his handwriting. Several times she glanced up at him and caught him watching her as she did this. Each time this happened she reached a hand up and stroked her knuckles against his cheek before she seemed to remember something and pulled her hand away.

            Every night of their journey, after he had finally convinced her to try to get some sleep, she sought him out in his cot instead of retiring to her own. He watched as she approached in a simple night shift, her eyes looking haunted and her lips trembling. He pulled back the blanket and she climbed in silently, huddling against him and seeking his warm comfort. He held her to him and stroked her hair until her breathing became deep and even, and then he pressed his lips to the top of her head before he relaxed into slumber himself. They didn’t speak of it in the morning, neither of them needing to say a word to admit that they slept better in each other’s arms.


	38. The Sun and the Moon

            Evelyn was restless, her mind not allowing her a moment’s peace even though they were safely back at Skyhold. She thought of Adamant, of the Fade, of Stroud, and of the desperate longing she felt each time she looked at Cullen. Since her return from the Fade, he had stayed close to her, had done a great deal to comfort her. She worried what pain she must be causing him as she sought him out for solace so often. He hadn’t shown it, but after the way things had been before their journey she worried she was tormenting him by needing him so much. Now that they were at Skyhold once more, she was resolved to let him be. She owed him that, no matter how painful it might be to her.

            She was wandering aimlessly and decided she’d go check on the still returning forces making their way into the Keep. Sudden shouts interrupted her deep melancholy. She looked around the courtyard to see a scuffle at the gates. A tall elf with messy, stark white hair was being barred from entrance by two soldiers amidst the forces streaming through the gates. She approached to see why they were holding him back.

            “Let me through, I told you I’m here to see -” the elf was saying, his voice deep and melodious, though it was strained with dangerous emotion.

            “The Champion of Kirkwall? And why are we supposed to believe that?” one of the soldiers asked.

            “What’s going on here?” Evelyn asked as she reached them.

            “Inquisitor, this elf says he’s here to see the Champion, but he won’t say how he knew she was here,” the other soldier reported.

            “Let him go, I’ll speak with him,” she ordered, and they instantly released the man’s arms. He took a deep breath and turned his large green eyes on her. This close up she could see that he had unusual markings on his chin that continued and joined others on his neck; they were white, almost silver on his incredibly pale skin. The rest of him was covered in black armor and a traveling cloak, and Evelyn found herself wondering if the marks were also present on the rest of him.

            “Inquisitor, is it?” he asked slowly.

            She nodded. “Yes. You said you’re here for the Champion?”

            “I am,” he said firmly, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

            “And you would be?”

            “A friend,” he replied curtly.

            Evelyn regarded him closely. “I apologize for the suspicion, I just know the Champion has many enemies, I don’t wish -”

            “I am not her enemy,” the man interrupted. He glanced behind Evelyn and something caught his attention. She looked over her shoulder and saw Varric hurrying across the courtyard toward them. “Varric!” the elf yelled, and he pushed past Evelyn to reach the dwarf.

            “Hey there, Broody -” Varric began to greet him in return.

            “Where is she?” the elf demanded loudly. “How could you - how could you drag her back into this?”

            “It was her decision. It was Corypheus, she had to – you know what she’s like,” Varric rushed to explain.

            “Oh, _shit_ ,” Evelyn heard a soft voice declare from behind her, and she turned to see Hawke standing a short distance away coming from the direction of the stables. She was staring wide-eyed at the elf as the traveling pack she held slipped from her grasp.

            He turned at the sound of her voice and a desperate, pained look crossed his face. He took several rapid strides through the crowded courtyard and closed the distance between them. Without so much as a word he pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers with so much passion that Evelyn felt her cheeks flush as she watched. Hawke hesitated in the embrace for only a moment before she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and clung to him with as much desperation as he had shown when he pulled her to him. Evelyn watched in surprise as Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, always so strong and determined in everything she did, melted in the arms of her lover as tears slid down her cheeks.

            After several long moments, the man finally pulled away from the kiss and stared into Hawke’s face. “I’m so sorry, Fen, I’m so sorry,” Hawke cried, and she buried her face against his neck. He held her to him, pressing his lips to her hair.

            “Don’t ever leave me like that again,” he told her, the despair evident in the way his voice caught on the syllables as he pronounced them.

            “I won’t, I promise,” the Champion said, and she pulled back to look at him once more. “I had to. I’m so - I’m so sorry.”

            Fenris turned away from Hawke but kept an arm around her, still clutching her to him as he looked at Varric. “I suppose I should thank you for not getting her killed.”

            Varric chuckled. “I’ll let her tell you the story, I’m afraid you might decide to try to kill me if I tell it.”

            The elf frowned and looked suspiciously at Hawke, who gave a teary laugh. “Oh please, we’ve been in tighter spots, Varric. You should thank the Inquisitor, Fen – she’s the reason I’m still standing here.”

            Fenris turned his intense gaze to Evelyn and gave a solemn nod. “Thank you, Inquisitor, for ensuring my family was returned to me.”

            Evelyn returned his nod. She tried not to think about how painful the decision had been, even as she watched this happy reunion and knew she had made the right choice. “Of course,” she murmured.

            “Come on, Sparkles, let’s let these two catch up,” Varric gestured her to follow him toward the tavern. With one last glance at the Champion and her lover, she turned to follow the dwarf across the courtyard.

 

* * *

 

            The wine had only made her feel more melancholy, and after one goblet she excused herself. She left through the top floor of the tavern to discover that night had fallen. She sought the consoling shadows of the snow-capped peaks that surrounded them, only appearing as looming black shapes against the starry sky. It was an oddly comforting sight to her, and she wandered the battlements and stared out at them. She made certain she walked away from the tower where she knew he would be, determined not to seek out his arms and his warmth. Instead she kept herself in the chilly night air, feeling goose bumps covering her flesh as the breeze blew the loose pieces of hair that always fell out of her braid around her face. She wasn’t wearing her cloak, and she reveled in the brisk and energizing wintry air as though she hoped it would chase away her doubts and memories.

            It was a soft sound at first, and she almost thought she had imagined it. She stopped in her tracks, frozen as she listened for it again. A deep voice was murmuring something, a soft one replied with a breathless moan. Other sounds drifted to her, and she realized she recognized them from her years at the Circle. They reminded her of the desperate, muffled sounds of forbidden passion that she had sometimes heard drifting from other parts of the mages’ quarters. Despite herself she crept forward and into the shadows cast by the tower behind her, curiously trying to make out the figures in the dark corner ahead of her.

            Hawke was perched on the edge of a barrel, her tanned legs wrapped around the hips of her pale lover as he moved against her. Her shirt was pulled off her shoulders to expose her full breasts, her breeches were thrown on the ground, Fenris’ pants were down around his ankles as though they had simply removed or pushed aside what was necessary in their haste. Evelyn felt herself marveling at the beautiful contrast they created in the moonlight, thinking it was one of the most stunning sights she had ever seen. If Evelyn thought Hawke reminded her of the sun, her lover was certainly the moon; he was as silvery as she was golden. She could see now that his markings were present on more of him than his chin, and they glowed suddenly as Hawke trailed her fingers down the ones on his arms. He groaned in response to her caresses and stopped his thrusts, gripping her face in one hand as he tugged her bottom lip roughly between his teeth.

            “Fen – stop teasing me, please -” Hawke gasped breathlessly against her lover’s mouth.

            Fenris gave a deep chuckle, maintaining his hold on her face. “Run off like that ever again and I won’t go so easy on you,” he told her, his voice seductively low. He began thrusting again, forceful and deliberate in his pace. As soon as she moaned in apparent eagerness he stopped, and she gave a desperate whimper. He lowered his other hand between them and seemed to be slowly touching her. She gave a deep moan in response. “I am yours,” he brushed her lips with his teasingly after saying it. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me, Marian,” he commanded in a growl.

            “I am yours –” Hawke rushed to assure him eagerly. “Fen, please – make me – _oh_.” He began thrusting more earnestly, faster, harder at her declaration, kissing her deeply as he slid his hand into her golden curls. Hawke was letting out soft cries against his suffocating kiss, his hand was moving faster, more intently between them, and he growled a little in response to the noises she was making.

            Evelyn felt her cheeks warm as she realized what the escalation in their hushed moans meant and she suddenly remembered herself. She slowly and cautiously backed away through the shadows, hoping the two of them were too preoccupied to notice her. She hoped they never discovered that she had seen them, or how long she had stood watching them. She felt ashamed of herself, but the sight had stirred too many emotions within her.

            She thought of her conversation with Hawke in the Western Approach, of what she had said about Fenris. She wondered how differently she may have acted if they hadn’t spoken, if she hadn’t pried about the other woman’s lover. Would she have left Hawke in the Fade, and taken Stroud with her to help rebuild the Wardens instead? Would Fenris have shown up at Skyhold, mad with grief after receiving word from Varric that Hawke had been left behind, instead of arriving to find his lover safe and sound? She wondered at the way he had thanked her for the return of his family, and understanding came upon her suddenly. She stopped in her tracks, resting one hand on the ramparts beside her, momentarily shocked by her new realization. Her guilt over everything that had happened in the Fade, how close she had come to leaving Hawke behind, increased tenfold. 

            The images of the couple’s lovemaking continued to play through her mind as she stood still in the frigid air. She felt a yearning begin inside herself despite how hard she tried to dismiss it. The memory of Cullen holding her against a wall, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her passionately still felt too fresh to forget. But the memory was tainted now, bittersweet and leaving her feeling nothing but regretful longing. It would have been better if it had never happened, so that she couldn’t remember the feeling of his lips twisting against hers, his tongue sliding against hers as if he was tasting her. She was feeling more and more convinced that he had given up on them, since he had shown no sign of wanting to discuss it. They had spent all of those nights together at camp but he hadn’t taken advantage of the solitude to bring up what she had told him. She was beginning to think that he didn’t need more time, that he must have decided her gentle assurances weren’t enough. He had comforted her, but he had made no moves to treat her as a lover. He hadn’t taken advantage of her closeness to press fevered kisses to her lips again. She sadly realized he must no longer want her, or he would have said something while they were alone together, he would have tried to kiss her as he once had.

            The thought that he would keep himself from her despite her declarations of forgiveness and her feelings made her knees tremble and she leaned over the ramparts. She felt tears slide down her cheeks, icy on her skin in the night air. She was suddenly overwhelmed, and the one she wanted to seek out for comfort was the one it hurt the most to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my take on the way I think things should have gone when Hawke came back from the Fade!


	39. Comfort

            Cullen looked out the window behind him and realized just how late it was. He had been working on his reports, but had found himself looking up at the door constantly as he read through them all. He was waiting for it to open. He’d gotten so used to her seeking him out at night as they journeyed back from the Western Approach that he found himself expecting her. Now that he saw how late it was, he couldn’t help but wonder where she could be. He stood and stretched lightly, deciding to take a walk and see if she was at the tavern or heading his way. He felt compelled to seek her out, worried for her. The look he’d noticed behind her eyes hadn’t disappeared as they traveled or after they had arrived back at Skyhold that morning, and he was concerned.

            He exited his tower onto the battlements that led to the tavern. The night was still, the air glacial and heavy as it always was just before it snowed. His pace was steady as he walked along the dark ramparts, his footsteps the only thing echoing through the silent darkness. Until he heard some soft gasps, and he slowed his pace, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the shadows before him.

            “Is someone there?” he finally called, and he heard a soft sob answer him. He rushed forward and found the one he had been searching for. She was crying on her knees, one hand pressed to the stone ramparts, the other clamped over her mouth as she wept. He knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back. “Evelyn,” he murmured, but she didn’t look up at him. He realized she was in a simple set of robes and was without her cloak. He rubbed her back, trying to get her to realize he was there, but she just continued sobbing.

            “It’s cold, let’s get you warm,” he told her, but when he tried to lift her to her feet she pressed against his chest with a hand, trying to push him away from her.

            “No – no,” she gasped.

            “It’s me, come -”

            “Leave me alone,” she sobbed, still resisting his hands trying to pull her up.

            “Evelyn, please, come with me,” he said more firmly, and he managed to lift her to her feet and hold her steady by her upper arms.

            “Go,” she pleaded. “Go away.”

            “No,” he replied resolutely.

            She raised her tear streaked face to look at him, her lips trembling as her teeth chattered. She shook her head rapidly and tried to pull herself away from his grasp.

            “Dearest, you’re freezing - let me get you inside,” he begged as he tried to maintain his hold on her. She stopped struggling suddenly, but still she stood sobbing, almost listlessly now that her resistance had fled. It took him a moment to realize what he had said, what she must have heard that made her stop fighting his help.

            He silently pulled her into his arms, swinging her legs up as he turned on his heel, determined to get her inside. If he had to, he would just give her a cloak and take her back to her quarters for the night – but he wouldn’t leave her standing out here by herself. As he carried her it started snowing, glistening snowflakes landing in her hair, standing out like stars against the inky blackness of the silky strands.

            Cullen made it to his office quickly, and nudged his door open with his shoulder so he could carry her inside. He set her on the edge of his desk and removed his gloves, setting them beside her before he took her hands in his. He rubbed her thin fingers between his, focused on getting her warm. He noticed that she had stopped crying and was watching his hands as they worked.

            “I didn’t know,” she murmured suddenly.

            He slowed his rubbing, considering carefully before he spoke. “What didn’t you know?”

            “Hawke – she’s pregnant,” she whispered, still staring at where his hands held hers.

            “Did she tell you?”

            “No, but -” she finally looked up at him, her eyes slightly unfocused and her brow furrowed. She seemed too lost in her thoughts to really see him. “He thanked me for returning his family to him. And in the Fade, she said -”

            He watched her as she struggled with the words, as she struggled with the memories they conjured. Her hands were warmer now but he still held them within his own.

            “She said her biggest fear was moldy bread, but she forced a laugh, she put her hand on her stomach,” she continued. “She said she was more grateful than I could know.”

            Cullen remembered the strange way Hawke had clutched at her stomach when Evelyn had told her why she had saved her. He had thought she was just reacting, just caught off guard by the words. But he realized now how odd the action had been, how low her hand had rested. How when he thought about it, the leather waist of her armor seemed slightly rounder than the slender figure he remembered from the last time he had seen her.

            “You said ‘he’ thanked you?” he asked after a moment lost in thought.

            “Fenris. He’s here, he came looking for her. Varric sent him a letter, told me he deserved to know where she was. She ran off, left without telling him,” Evelyn hung her head and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “What if I hadn’t spoken to her? What if I hadn’t asked her, what if she hadn’t told me about Fenris? I could have left her behind, I could have let her – not just her -”

             Cullen pulled her to him, letting her cry against his mantle. He waited a few moments before he spoke, “But you didn’t. It doesn’t do any good to wonder what you might have done differently.”

            “I keep having to make these choices,” she cried. “I know now that I chose this path, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I keep having to choose, keep having to decide who’s worthy, who I can save. I left the Divine behind, I left Stroud behind. I can’t save everyone. I can’t save -”

            But her words were lost to renewed sobs. He stroked her hair, planted soft kisses against the top of her head, rocking her slightly as he had every time she had awoken from a nightmare in his cot. Slowly she began to calm down and take deep breaths.

            “Stay here,” he murmured.

            “No, Cullen, I can’t -” her voice broke. “I can’t keep torturing you like this. I can’t keep torturing myself.”

            “It is no trouble,” he told her. “Let me take care of you. It’s my duty.”

            She raised her gaze to him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

            He stroked her hair away from her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks as he thought. She was distracted, she was in pain. Though he could tell she was also hurting because of him, he couldn’t answer her now. He couldn’t bring up their discussion before Adamant, not while she was distraught. It would be selfish, and it wouldn’t go how he wanted it to. “I swore to the Maker, I made a vow to keep you safe, even if it should cost me my life. It’s my duty, Evelyn. You are mine to protect, as I have tried to do for months.”

            “Is that what I am to you? A duty?” she whispered, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her.

            “Because it was given to me,” he kissed her forehead tenderly, “and because I accepted it. Please, Evelyn, let me take care of you.”

            She sighed softly against him, sounding wistful and resigned at some thought that crossed her mind. Slowly she nodded her head. “I’ll stay.”

            He stepped away from her and she slid off the desk. He led her to the ladder and waited for her to climb it, which she did, her pace slow. Once she had reached the top he followed her. He began to remove his mantle and his armor as she crawled onto the bed. She sat in its middle, her legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them as she watched him. He was reminded of the way she used to sit and observe the sparring at Haven, so many months ago. He smiled a little to himself as he remembered his intense curiosity, his inability to take his gaze off of her or resist speaking with her.

            “It’s snowing,” she said suddenly.

            Cullen looked up from where he had been hanging his armor on its stand. Evelyn was staring up at the falling snow with a hint of a smile on her face, and he was momentarily speechless at the sight she presented as she sat on his bed trying to catch snowflakes. She opened her mouth and caught one on her tongue, then giggled. She lowered her gaze from the hole and looked at him as though she had forgotten her sadness for the moment.

            “Do we not have the resources to fix your roof, Commander?” she questioned softly.

            “I like it, actually,” he answered, and he finally moved to join her on the bed, stripped down to his shirt and breeches like always. He propped an elbow on his bent knee as he sat beside her and looked up through the opening. “Whenever I wake from a – a nightmare, I look up and it helps me remember that I’m not there. Seeing the sky above me…it helps.”

            He was still staring up, and she reached over to take his hand. He squeezed her fingers gently in response.

            “I have extra blankets, if you think you’ll be cold,” he murmured, and he stood to fetch them, pulling away from her hand. She watched him move around his small loft as he retrieved two more wool blankets from a small trunk against the wall. He shook them out and laid them on the bed. “Get in, Evelyn.”

            She sighed a little and stood up from the bed. She glanced at him timidly before she began undoing the fastenings of her robe and removed it, stripping to the small shift she was wearing underneath. She climbed back onto the bed and scooted to get under the blankets. She folded them back and stared at him invitingly.

            He hesitated. It suddenly dawned on him that she was in his bed. He was trying not to stare at the curves he could see under the thin material of her shift. This felt different than the nights they had shared his cot, both seeking comfort and peaceful sleep after the hardships of their journey. Now they were back at Skyhold, in his room, the bed in which he slept every night. He knew he’d never be able to sleep peacefully in it again without her, if she slept there with him now.

            Cullen steadied himself with a deep breath and took his place beside her under the blankets. She laid on her side facing away from him and scooted toward him as he reclined on the pillows. But he kept himself on his back, not curving himself against her as he normally did. She waited for a moment before she looked at him over her shoulder.

            “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

            “I -” he began. He wasn’t quite sure what he could tell her. Before he could answer she rolled over and rested her head against his chest, staring up into his face. Cold snowflakes were falling on both of them, but somehow neither of them seemed to care. “I was just watching the snow fall,” he finally said.

            She looked at him for a moment more and then pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm and leg across him and nestling close under the blankets. He took a few deep breaths before he reached his arm around her, resting his hand at her waist and he leaned down to kiss her gently on the top of her head, as he had every other night she had slept beside him.

            He knew this view would never be the same, knew this room would never feel the same now that she had been in it. But he wasn’t sure he wanted it to go back to how it had been before, without her there.


	40. A Prayer

            When Evelyn awoke in the morning, she was alone. She shivered under the blankets, no longer as warm as she had been in his arms. She looked around the loft and saw that his armor was gone from its stand, his mantle no longer hanging over the railing beside it.

            “Cullen?” she softly called out. She wondered if maybe he sat at his desk below her looking over reports, determined to keep anyone from disturbing her sleep just as he had the day they rested at Adamant.

            She received no answer. She pushed back the blankets and reached for her robes, pulling them on as she got out of his bed. Her leather shoes were lying beside the bed and she slipped them on before she made her way down the ladder. His office was empty, and she found herself disappointed that she had woken up alone. Somehow, it strengthened in her the idea that she was just a duty to him as he had told her, that he would let himself be her comfort but not anything more. The fact that he had called her ‘dearest’ the previous evening felt like an accident. She wondered at his use of the term, but doubt told her it meant nothing, that it must have been a slip. Again they had been alone. Again he had held her but had made no attempt to treat her as anything but someone he needed to comfort. His use of a term of endearment had given her momentary hope, but his actions after had crushed it. It renewed the feelings of melancholy and her increasing certainty that he had given up on them.

            Evelyn left the tower and headed back into the keep. She didn’t see him in the courtyard below her as she walked across the bridge between his office and the library. She nodded a brief greeting to Solas as she passed him but she didn’t stop to answer his quizzical frown at the look on her face. She felt restless again, determined to wander and try to forget why she was so sad to have woken up without him. She passed through the main hall of the keep, keeping her face neutral as she passed the dignitaries who were visiting the Inquisition. She snuck into a hallway off the main hall and instantly regretted it. She tried to bury the memories it stirred of him pulling her off to a side path of this hallway, pushing her back into the wall and stealing a deep kiss before Cassandra had interrupted them. She couldn’t get away from the recollection though, and so she ran past it and out into the sunlight.

            She roamed through the small courtyard that she had had converted into a garden, absently trying to distract herself by checking the progress of the herbs that grew there. She paused beside the Hoarfrost Lotus and gently ran a petal between her fingers, feeling how cool it felt against her skin. She knew from Adan that Cullen had begun using the compresses again, but she hadn’t offered her magic to him, not even the nights they had been alone in his tent on their journey home. Even if it could relieve his tension, she knew the debt he would feel at her tending would only add to his pain. She left the garden with a sigh and walked along the halls that led around the courtyard, intending to explore the improvements that were still being made on the keep. One of the doors along the hall was open, the one that led to the small Chantry they had added.

            As she approached, she heard a deep voice drifting out of the small room, reciting a prayer. She hadn’t expected to find him here. She hesitantly looked into the Chantry, debating whether or not she should let him be. The sound of his voice as he prayed tugged at her heartstrings, though, and she couldn’t resist letting her feet carry her through the door.

            “For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost,” Cullen prayed, kneeling before the statue of Andraste, his hands clasped and his forehead pressed against them. “Please, keep her safe. Let her always come back to me. I will endeavor to be worthy of my duty, I will be worthy of your favor. Deliver her to my arms, whenever she is in need, and let me be her strength. Let me remain her comfort, her shield. Let me always be her shelter. Please,” he continued whispering, repeating his fervent prayers as she stood listening to him.

            Evelyn choked back a sudden sob, overwhelmed by his words, and pressed her fingers to her lips. Cullen turned at the sound, staring at her for a moment before he stood and approached her. He gently put his hands on her cheeks and let his gaze wander over her face. Evelyn felt her eyes swimming with tears, but she was speechless. The desperation in his tone had torn through her, and she stared up into his warm regard, waiting for him to speak.

            “Dearest,” he murmured, and he pulled her against him, holding her tight in his arms. “If only you knew how frequently I’ve said this prayer, how many times I’ve had to pray for you to come back safely to me. How many times I’ve worried the Maker had finally turned his gaze from me and decided I was unworthy of receiving the answer to my prayers. How many times I worried you wouldn’t be returned to me. Andraste preserve me, I’ll have to send you to him again, I’ll have to send you to Corypheus... How many more times will I have to say this prayer, when I have to send you to our enemies without me?”

            She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his cold armor on her cheek, wishing she could feel his warmth against her skin as she did when she slept in his arms. “Cullen,” she murmured, unable to respond as she felt overcome with emotion.

            “I’ve carried you so many times that I realized it must be my duty. After Haven, after I thought I’d lost you, but you were once again returned to me and I carried you for the third time -” he paused at the memory. “I knew that I was being entrusted with a sacred duty, that the Maker himself placed me beside you to help carry you as you tried to carry all of Thedas on your own. That it’s my duty to be your strength, your comfort, your protector. I know you need me, and I’ve felt despicable for how much I need you in return. I’m unworthy of your care, your devotion. Maker forgive me, though, I do need you. But I shouldn’t be your burden to bear, not when I need to help you bear your own burdens.”

            “But, I -”

            “I’ve thought about what you told me, about what you said,” he interrupted. He reached down and placed a knuckle beneath her chin to raise her gaze to his. He was smiling softly. “I won’t deny that I’m broken, that I won’t doubt whether I deserve you, that I won’t struggle with adding to your burdens. I can only promise I’ll try my best, since that’s all any of us can ever do, and I’ll strive to be worthy of you every day. Evelyn - if you’ll still have me, I am yours.”

            She felt tears sliding down her cheeks as her lips tugged upward into a wide, watery smile. “Yes, Cullen,” she breathed.

            He lowered his face and pressed his lips against hers gently, his fingers still resting on her chin, holding her face up to him. It was a kiss of promise, a tender declaration of intent and belonging. Evelyn felt herself made whole again in his arms.


	41. Unexpected

            Evelyn was able to walk with more purpose now, no longer wandering aimlessly through the keep. Her restlessness had intention behind it. She entered the tavern and scanned the common room quickly before she saw who she was searching for.

            “Varric!” she called, and he turned to face her at her greeting.

            “Hey Sparkles,” he waved for her to join him.

            She approached his table but didn’t take her usual seat beside him. “Have you seen Hawke?” she asked.

            He smirked. “I think she and Fenris are taking a personal day. What do you need?”

            “I need to speak with her,” she chewed her lip, debating. “Varric, did you – did you know that she’s -”

            “That she’s pregnant?” Varric sighed, and he took a large gulp of ale. “Not until after she had arrived at Skyhold. If I had, I wouldn’t have written to her to ask for her help with Corypheus.”

            “You should have told me,” Evelyn frowned.

            “It wasn’t my secret to share. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want anyone treating her like a delicate flower,” he rubbed his forehead and took another drink.

            “But I deserved to know, she was putting herself at risk for me,” she pointed out. Varric just sighed and shook his head without answering. “Is that why you wrote to Fenris?”

            “I felt responsible. Like I said, Sparkles, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have contacted her. I would have left the both of them alone to welcome their bundle of dangerous sarcasm into the world in peace. We could have figured out Corypheus and the Wardens without her. Eventually.”

            Evelyn sighed and finally sank into the chair beside him. “I could have left her behind. I’m just…I want her to know, I want her to understand – oh I don’t even know what, I just feel the need to speak with her.”

            “Looks like you’ll get your chance,” Varric said, looking toward the door of the tavern with a grin. “Hey Hawke, nice to see you two lovebirds emerge for some fresh air.”

            Hawke and Fenris made their way through the common room at Varric’s words and took their seats across from them at the table. Fenris was wearing only the black leather vest and breeches of his armor, his white markings visible on his arms and bare hands. Hawke was out of her armor for the first time since Evelyn had met her, garbed in a simple black blouse tucked into her leather breeches. Evelyn couldn’t help but lower her gaze to the other woman’s waist, and she could finally see the slightest rounding of her tight belly, only evident if you knew to look for it.

            “Fen was just dying to see you again, Varric. He insisted,” Hawke quipped.

            “Yes, my day isn’t complete without the sight of your chest hair, dwarf. I’ve missed it,” Fenris drawled, and Evelyn found herself surprised by the elf’s humor. She’d only seen his intensity, but the small smirk playing at the corners of his lips now seemed just as natural to him. He relaxed casually beside Hawke, as though he were completely at ease, and put an arm on the back of her chair around her shoulders. She smiled and leaned against him, looking utterly content.

            Varric laughed at the teasing and motioned at Evelyn. “Sparkles you two didn’t really get a chance to actually meet yesterday, but this is Broody.”

            “Fenris,” the elf corrected, and he nodded a greeting at the Inquisitor.

            “Evelyn,” she answered.

            “So, Inquisitor, what’s next now that you’ve put a stop to Corypheus’ demon army?” Hawke asked.

            Evelyn heaved a sigh. “Now I have to figure out how to stop the assassination of the Empress of Orlais.”

            “Well, I can’t help you with that, unfortunately. I’m afraid intrigue at court isn’t really my area of expertise,” Hawke chuckled. Fenris took her hand where it rested on the table and began stroking it with his thumb as he listened to her speak, his other arm still around her.

            Evelyn smiled as she watched them together. She tried not to think about what she had seen the previous night, realizing she would blush enough to cause suspicion if she let herself remember. She cleared her throat lightly to try to push the images aside and steady her voice before she spoke. “I, uh – understand congratulations are in order,” she said.

            Hawke raised an eyebrow to Varric who shrugged. “She’d figured it out, Hakwe, I didn’t tell her.”

            “I wish you’d told me,” Evelyn continued. “You were putting yourself at risk for me, I was responsible for you -”

            “It’s fine, Evelyn,” Hawke murmured. “It was my decision. Plus it all worked out in the end.”

            Evelyn saw Fenris squeeze Hawke’s hand tighter and they exchanged a loving look.

            “So how long before we get to meet your little troublemaker?” Varric asked with a chuckle and a wink at Fenris.

            “Not for another five, six months, maybe?” Hawke replied with a smile and a soft shrug. “We had only just discovered that I was when I received your letter.”

            “Yes, wonderful timing as always,” Fenris quipped.

            Varric chuckled and took a sip of his ale. Hawke and Fenris shared another secret look, as though they were both remembering something.

            “How much longer are you planning to stay, Hawke?” Evelyn asked after a moment.

            “We’re leaving this evening. I think I’ve done all I can to help you, it’s probably time for me to step back and leave everything in your capable hands,” Hawke gave Evelyn an understanding smile, which the Inquisitor freely returned. She no longer felt so intimidated by the other woman; instead she felt a mutual respect and kinship after everything they had been through together. She hadn’t thought they would become friends, but she realized that they had.

              “I’d like to apologize, though, Evelyn,” the Champion suddenly said with a frown, pulling Evelyn out of her thoughts.

            “For not telling me? Don’t worry about it, like you said it all worked out in the end,” Evelyn demurred.

            “No, not that,” Hawke was giving her a curious look. “I’m sorry for the assumptions I made about the Commander. I hope my words didn’t complicate things for you both. It appears he is a great deal different from the man I knew in Kirkwall. I should have waited to see it for myself before I said anything.”

            Evelyn looked down at where her hands were clasped on the table, thinking. “It’s all right, Hawke. I think – I think you helped, actually.”

 

* * *

           

            “Commander, you’re needed in the war room,” a soft voice said and he looked up. Evelyn was standing just inside the door giving him a playful grin. He hadn’t heard her come in, so intent on the work before him that he’d missed the door opening.

            “Is the Inquisitor running errands now, being sent to fetch the Commander when he’s late to meetings?” he teased as he stood up and shuffled the reports on his desk, looking for the one he needed for their war council.

            “Oh, they wanted to send a scout, but I told them I would do it because I have something important to speak with you about,” she walked slowly toward him as she said it. The playful grin was still tugging the corners of her mouth up as she approached.

            “And how may I help you, Inquisitor?” he tried to keep his face serious, like he was carefully considering her words.

            She stopped before him and gripped his mantle, slowly pulling him down so she could more easily reach. “The Inquisitor requires a kiss,” she murmured.

            “Anything for the Inquisition,” he replied, and she finally pressed her lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her and straightened, lifting her off the floor so that her feet dangled against his armored shins. She giggled a little against his lips and tightened her arms around his neck. It was a lighthearted kiss, relaxed and full of smiles against each other’s mouths. They were both enjoying the carefree feeling of happiness that they had felt since he had answered her in the Chantry that morning.

            “Really, though,” she said after several long moments, trying to pull her head back away from his kiss. He playfully pursued her and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Cullen, we really do need to get to the war room.”

            He sighed and kissed her one last time before he lowered her to the floor. She straightened her top and gave him a bright smile before she turned to lead him out of his office. As they walked he found his gaze wandering over her back, taking in her curves as she walked ahead of him. He had to resist the urge to give her a playful pat on her rear, feeling uncharacteristically content and mischievous. They were passing the soldiers who patrolled the battlements and instead he nodded in response to their salutes, trying to appear serious and focused.

            “Evelyn!” a voice called from the courtyard beneath them. Evelyn stopped walking and peered over the stone wall of the bridge as he did the same. Hawke was calling up to them from the courtyard, waving a hand inviting them down.

            “Oh, we should say goodbye,” Evelyn said and turned to look at Cullen. He nodded and they walked back to the stairs down to the courtyard.

            As they approached Hawke, Fenris also appeared leading two horses from the stables. Hawke and he were both wearing traveling cloaks and their full armor, their mounts saddled and carrying traveling packs. Evelyn reached the Champion and held her hand out, but Hawke pulled her into a tight hug. Cullen was slightly surprised; it was quite a change from how they had initially acted toward one another.

            “Take care of yourself, Evelyn,” Hawke said as she released the Inquisitor after a lengthy hug. The Champion turned her gaze on Cullen and gave him a calculated, demanding look. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Commander. There’s too much at risk – I expect you to look after her.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows as he regarded Hawke. “What happened to the sarcastic, never-takes-anything-seriously Champion that I knew in Kirkwall?”

            “She’s expecting a child and wants for there to still be a world to welcome it into in a few months. So you better make sure there is one,” Hawke replied coolly.

            “What she means is that she doesn’t want to have to make the journey back to Skyhold to hurt you if you fail,” Fenris explained with a smirk. “So don’t make her.”

            Cullen chuckled a little. “I promise you won’t have to do that, Hawke.”

            “Good, because if I’m further along than this,” she pointed at her stomach, “I’ll have to send Fenris instead. And he isn’t as nice as I am.” Hawke wiggled her eyebrows with suggestive threat at Cullen, and Fenris gave a lazy grin beside her. Cullen let out a bark of laughter and offered his hand to the Champion. She took it firmly in her grasp. “It was actually nice to see you, Cullen, now that you’re not such an insufferable ass. If I’d known kissing a mage would have changed you this much, maybe I would have tried a different approach in Kirkwall,” she teased before releasing his hand.

            “Nice to see you haven’t changed, Hawke. I was worried expecting a child would make you go soft in places other than your belly,” he quipped. Evelyn giggled at the scowl Hawke gave him. Fenris reached a hand out to the Commander as well, and they silently nodded at each other as they clasped each other’s forearms in farewell. They had only spoken a few times in Kirkwall, but the last time they had, Fenris had privately thanked Cullen for what he’d done for Hawke that day. A look of understanding passed between them before they released each other.

            “It was nice to meet you, Fenris,” Evelyn said, and she hesitated for a second and then gave the elf a quick hug. Fenris seemed surprised and stared down at her in wonder. “Good luck, and – well, congratulations again.”

            “Good luck to you as well,” the elf drawled after a moment spent considering her. “And thank you, Evelyn.”

            Fenris helped Hawke onto her horse before mounting his own. The Champion stared down at the pair standing beside them for a moment. “I’d say I hope we see each other soon,” she mused teasingly, “but I honestly hope we don’t. At least, not for a while.”

            Evelyn laughed softly, and Cullen thought he could detect a bit of trembling in her tone as she did so. “Thank you for everything Hawke – I mean it.”

            Hawke gave the Inquisitor one last smile, and then she and Fenris rode out the gates of Skyhold. Cullen and Evelyn stood for a moment watching them go before he gently put his hand on her waist. “We need to get to the war council, Evelyn,” he murmured. She nodded a little sadly and they headed back toward the keep.


	42. Doubts

            Cullen’s eyes snapped open, the face of Uldred was before him, he was trapped –

            He instinctively looked up through the hole in the roof, gazing at the stars he could see through the clouds as he tried to take calming breaths. A warm body stirred beside him and he lowered his gaze instead to the eyes that were staring up into his face with concern. In the meager light, they were even clearer, even brighter than normal, shining through the darkness like the stars above them.

            “Cullen?” she murmured, and reached a hand up to his cheek. “Are you all right?”

            “Just a memory,” he kissed her forehead and pulled her more tightly to him. “I’m sorry that I woke you.”

            “It is no trouble,” she nestled against him, repeating the phrase he said so frequently. It brought a smile to his lips. He rolled to face her, holding her against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly about her as he buried his nose in her hair and pressed kisses to the silky strands.

            She gave a small giggle, a sigh of contentment, and then raised her face to look up at him. The memories that had interrupted his sleep began to fade away as he leaned toward her, intent on erasing the nightmare completely with the feeling of her soft lips. He moved his mouth against hers leisurely, reveling in her tender, sleepy response. He lost track of time, lost himself in the kiss. When he could no longer clearly picture Uldred’s terrible leer before him, no longer remember the pain and fear, he released her and kissed the top of her head. He held her tightly to him, and gradually their breathing deepened as they both fell back into peaceful slumber.

 

 

            Cullen hated watching her leave. Each time she did, each time he had to send her away to battle their enemies, he felt a horrible guilt deep inside him. How many times would he have to watch as she rode off to face unimaginable horrors, to face Corypheus almost entirely on her own? And yet he had to do it, he had to send her, though it pained him.

            He watched as she rode out of the gates of Skyhold and said his usual prayer to the Maker for her safe return. He tried not to think about how he couldn’t be there for her, how much he longed to keep her with him or go with her and face their enemies side by side. Instead he waited until he could no longer see her on the horizon and turned to head to his office, to coordinate their forces to support her as best as he could from afar. He had to trust that the Maker would continue to answer his prayers. He hadn’t fallen out of favor yet, and he felt more confident than ever that she would continue to make it back to him. He finally felt deserving of having her returned to him.

            He had to believe it. To believe anything else was too painful to consider.

 

* * *

 

            The Exalted Plains were worse than Crestwood had been, especially after the events of the Fade and the way the nightmare had taunted her with the decaying corpses of her allies. She found herself thankful she had brought Vivienne, who was incredibly adept at fire magic and could burn the rotting, plagued corpses instead of her. Evelyn stood back, unwilling to see the decay, one hand shielding her eyes from the sight and the sun as though she were just searching the horizon for their next campsite. She took deep breaths to steady herself but immediately regretted it as her nostrils were filled with the smell of the burning rotted flesh. She pressed her fist to her lips, trying to quell the gag she felt rising in her throat.

            “That should be it, Boss, ready to call it for the night?” Bull called to her as he approached where she stood a fair distance from the trenches.

            She gave a silent nod, for the moment not trusting her voice. She pointed ahead of her, trying to avoid the sight of the fire that still burned to her right. “Over – over there, should be a good site, don’t you think?” Her voice was shakier and higher than she wanted it to be. She gulped, fighting the images of decaying flesh that seemed burned into her mind.

            They made camp for the night and she sat beside the fire to compose her report to her advisors about what they had found in the Exalted Plains. Her hands shook when she described the pits of bodies, just as they had shaken when she wrote her first report describing the violence in the Hinterlands. She realized now how right Cassandra had been when she had offered her counsel about violence. None of it ever got easier.

            Though she addressed the report to Cullen, she kept all of it professional. She fought the urge to address him personally and confess her concerns and terror at everything she had discovered. She didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily, or make him feel guilt that she had to face these things without him. Instead she acted as the Inquisitor, factual and disconnected as she relayed the information she had collected, what she had managed to accomplish. She requested forces for certain tasks, she asked them to follow up with the Orlesian forces, with Gaspard and Celene. She didn’t ask how his head was feeling, or tell him that she missed him and wished he were there to comfort her after what she had seen over the last week. She informed him of her next move, signed it ‘Evelyn,’ and then passed it on to a scout to send to Skyhold.

 

* * *

 

            It started when he read her report on the Emerald Graves, when she reported where the leads on Samson, the Red Templars, and red lyrium had led her. The compresses stopped working as well, the shaking in his hands returned and continued throughout the day, making his reports more difficult to finish. Without her in his bed, his sleep was less restful, the hole in the roof less helpful than it had once been. Now that he knew the comfort of her against him when he was plagued with his memories, everything else provided less respite in comparison.

            The doubt was different now. He no longer focused on whether or not he deserved her or should hope that she could care for him. Instead he was bombarded with the knowledge of his withdrawal and what could happen to him if it worsened. He could still end up leaving her alone, still hurt her if he went mad or died because of it. He imagined what would happen if he lost his sanity or his memory, and his mind kept him awake at night as he pictured a future where he still lost her as he tried to overcome his addiction.

            He needed to get back on it. He had to start taking it again. As much as he wanted to break the ties of the Order, it wasn’t worth failing the Inquisition or failing her. He laid awake every night she was gone, ruminating on a future without her, a future where he was insane and she was broken; no longer protected by him, facing their enemies alone. Or worse, alone if they succeeded, when things were supposed to be better. When they could think about what they may do after the Inqusition. He thought about what Samson had become in Kirkwall after he was expelled from the Order, and he pictured a similar future for himself. He couldn’t let her see him go through that, he couldn’t break her heart that way.

            He tried to resist the thoughts. He told himself it was better this way. He tried to reassure himself that she knew what could happen to him. That they had discussed it before Adamant, that she understood what he had meant, how serious it could be. That she knew and had chosen him anyway. But still a voice persisted in his head, telling him that taking lyrium again was the only way to protect her, to achieve what he needed to with the Inquisition, to keep his vow. Some nights as he lay alone in his bed he knew it was just his addiction talking, trying to get him to give in, using a new angle to try to break his resolve. Other nights, he wondered whether or not the voice in his head was right, whether or not it really was the smarter choice. And the voice began to get louder the longer she was gone.

            By the time he received word she was returning from the Emerald Graves, he was fighting the urge to seek Cassandra out and beg her to replace him. He felt compromised, unable to focus on the Inquisition as he worried about hurting Evelyn through his addiction and withdrawal, so consumed with the possibility of failing. By the time he knew she would be back the next day, he felt half-crazed by his doubt. He couldn’t sleep the night before her return, barely falling asleep before he was plagued with images of Uldred that snapped him awake immediately. But new images began to plague him as he tried to sleep, images of her dying or brokenhearted because of his failures. The new onslaught of nightmares and fears were nearly crippling him.

            He should be taking it.


	43. Wish Fulfillment

            Cullen had greeted her at the gates, had escorted her to the war council to discuss the events in the Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves. They had discussed their plans for the Winter Palace, they had agreed to meet the next day to plan preparations, since they would be leaving within a week for Halamshiral. They had finally found their way into the Winter Palace to get near Empress Celene now that Duke Gaspard had invited the Inquisition to attend the peace talks as his guest.

            Evelyn had listened to it all, had added her input, had smiled softly at him across the war table while maintaining the self-assured, resolute demeanor that he admired about her so much. She had winked at him lightly when she announced that she was in need of a bath and was retiring to her room. He took it to mean she would find him in his office later, after she was recovered from the journey home.

            His armor had been uncomfortable, hot and oppressive and so he'd taken it off. He knew he also wanted to feel her against his chest when she finally joined him, and so he was sitting at his desk in his loose shirt and breeches, trying to read over a report from Orlais. He kept looking up at every noise outside his office as he expected her and made little progress on the report. Cullen had come to understand that she enjoyed leisurely baths upon her return from a hard journey, and he tried to be patient for her to join him. He longed to feel her in his arms. He couldn’t help but feel like it would help erase the doubts that he felt about his withdrawal, about his new, growing need to take lyrium that had begun to overwhelm him.

            Finally the door opened and Evelyn hurried inside before she closed it behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment, staring at him with a warm, loving smile on her face. It took his breath away after weeks apart. She quickly crossed the space of his office and moved to where he sat at his desk. He tried to stand to greet her but she pushed him lightly back into his chair and curled herself into his lap. She was wearing one of her linen blouses and wool skirts, her hair still damp from her bath. The fresh, crisp scent of rain that he loved so much filled his nostrils as soon as she got near.

            She murmured his name, ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed him passionately. Even though she was the one who had been away, he finally felt like he was home. He held her tightly to him, returning her kiss eagerly, and sighed sadly when she pulled back.

            “I missed you,” she murmured against his lips.

            “I missed you,” he kissed her softly. “I could tell you had some difficulties – are you all right?”

            She nodded but looked a little forlorn. “When…when I was in the Fade,” she sighed and paused, then shook her head as though shaking away a bad memory. “Oh never mind, I’d rather not talk about all of that right now. I just want to enjoy being back in your arms for the moment.”

            “You can tell me later,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead and she ran a finger along his jaw, dragging her nail through his rough stubble.

            “How have you been feeling? Are the compresses still helping?”

            “Some,” he admitted. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about his new doubts, his new desire to keep himself from insanity or death so he could stay with her. He didn’t want to worry her with it, didn’t want to add that burden to her after her difficult journey.

            “Would you like for me to help you?” she leaned back so she could look up into his eyes, and he gave a slow nod. He hadn’t meant to let her know he needed her help, but it was too tantalizing to think about the relief he would feel, the pain dissipating entirely as she massaged his temples.

            She continued her warm smile as she pulled herself out of his arms and perched on the desk so that she could focus on her task. She rested her feet on his thighs, and he was sitting so close that her knees were pressing against his chest. He rested his forearms on the desk alongside her thighs, his hands resting lightly behind her, cupping her rear. She gave a light giggle and rubbed her middle and index fingers to her thumbs, trying to concentrate. She giggled a bit more and softly reproached, “Cullen, please - I need to focus, move your hands.”

            He chuckled and pulled his hands back from where he had been stroking her curves and rested them on her feet instead, caressing her bare ankles as he waited for her to begin. Again though she waited until he nodded, waiting until he consented to let her proceed. The feeling was immediate, the icy feeling spreading through his skull, and then she softly placed her thumbs on his cheeks as well and the vibrating ministrations instantly began to soothe his aches. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of peace that he hadn’t felt in so long, that he’d deprived himself of out of torturous self-loathing for weeks. Regretfully he wondered why he had kept himself from her for so long.

            The feeling of relief as she tended him began to tangle with his lustful awareness of how close she was to him. It had been weeks; weeks alone in his bed, without her warmth and her kisses. He slid his hands from her ankles up her calves, gently caressing her as she massaged his temples, enjoying the feeling of the slight tingle that was ever present on her skin. He felt her fingers falter a bit in their rhythm, the magic fizzling for a moment, fading in and out against his temples. He realized her breaths were becoming shakier as he ran his fingers along her and he felt her skin tighten as goose bumps sprang up across it. He couldn’t resist her anymore, not when he could tell she was excited by his close proximity as well. He suddenly pulled her off the desk and into his lap so that she straddled him as he captured her lips with his.

            She pulled her fingers away from his temples and gave a soft gasp. “Cullen, I can’t focus, I can’t – I don’t want to hurt you – mmm,” she moaned as he nibbled her bottom lip.

            He ignored her protestations, realizing he didn’t care if she kept tending to his head. He just needed her. One hand was splayed on her back, his other twisting in her hair, holding her to him as he kissed her deeply. She finally lowered her hands from his face and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately as she tried to keep up with the pace of his passion. After several long moments he lifted her and laid her back on the desk, bending over her as he continued kissing her. He reached a hand up to the laces on her blouse and slowly undid them. He slid the linen over her shoulder to expose her breast, the same one he had glimpsed all those months ago in Haven.

            For a long moment he simply took in her beauty, staring freely at the curves and peak he had accidentally seen that night that had tormented him for months. Now he was able to revel in the sight as she lay under him on his desk, her lips wet and parted slightly as she stared up at him, her breathing sounding more like soft gasps. He reached a hand out and finally let his rough palm glide over her breast, caressing her as he had wanted to for so long. He slid kisses down the white column of her throat, down the curve of her breast, and teased her nipple into a hard peak with his lips and soft strokes of his tongue. She gasped sharply in surprise and he noticed the tingling he always felt on her skin increase beneath his tongue suddenly, incredibly tantalizing against his wet mouth.

            “Oh – Cullen, please – stop, stop,” she cried abruptly, and he immediately released her and sat back in his chair.

            “I’m sorry, Evelyn, I’m so sorry - I should have asked,” he was looking at her, horrified at the thought that he had hurt her or gone too far.

            “No, no, it’s just…” she was gasping, moaning a little, trying to take deep breaths to steady herself. “My magic was still so close to the surface, so…oh - I felt myself losing control. I was scared I was going to hurt you accidentally.”

            There was a time those words would have terrified him. He was amazed he had been so carried away that he hadn’t heard the buzzing in the air that he was suddenly aware of now. Instead, he felt an erotic pride in the fact that he had almost made her lose control of her magic with simple kisses and caresses. “I didn’t…hurt you, then? I got carried away, and I realized I don’t know what…what you may be comfortable with, I should have thought to ask,” he said after a moment. He still worried the real reason her magic was humming was that he had pushed her too far.

            She gave a small giggle. “That was wonderful, I just…I couldn’t get focused after I’d been using my magic on your head.” She propped herself on her elbows to look up at him, and he enjoyed the sight she posed with her shirt still off one shoulder, her chest half-exposed. “I’ve never had -”

            He frowned when she paused and blushed. “You’ve never had what?” he prompted her.

            She bit her bottom lip for a moment before she answered. “I’ve never had anyone do that. No one’s ever touched me like you do.”

            He raised an eyebrow. He had begun to wonder, had had his suspicions but hadn’t wanted to imply too much by asking. “No one?” he asked. Her blush deepened and she shook her head slowly. He grinned at her. “No secret lovers, hiding from the Templars at night, stealing kisses when they couldn’t see you in the library?”

            She giggled a little. “I’m afraid my life was very boring before I met you.”

            “I find that very hard to believe,” he reached out toward her calves, but looked at her before he touched her. She nodded her consent.

            “It’s true, though,” she sighed as he began softly stroking her skin again. “I studied as much as I could, played chess with my instructors, and read. I taught myself to sketch. I didn’t have any friends. I spoke with the First and Senior Enchanters more than the other apprentices or mages.”

            He chuckled and let his hands slide up to stroke the soft skin in the underside of her knees. Her smooth skin was still tingling, and it felt intoxicating against his fingers after the weeks they had been shaking from his withdrawal. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling. “Surely you had friends,” he murmured, watching her face attentively. He loved listening to her speak.

            “Not really,” she shrugged a little. He was momentarily distracted by the sight of her breast as she did so. “I unnerved people - my eyes, the way I observe everything so closely. It didn’t really endear me to people.”

            “None of the other mages tried to woo you? No Templars shot you secretive, longing glances, or tried to get you alone?”

            “A few, mostly mages. I kept away from the Templars as much as I could. It made things easier, though I noticed a few looking at me over the years, trying to speak with me alone occasionally,” she said, holding his gaze as he continued caressing her knees under her skirt. “But I wasn’t interested in anyone who tried, and I always tried to make that clear.”

            “So you never had anyone? No one to confide in, no one to comfort you?” he felt sad thinking about a younger Evelyn, alone at the Circle. He wished he’d known her then, but he realized she wouldn’t have liked him much at the time. She would have avoided him like the other Templars.

            “Not really. Other than the First Enchanter, Gabrielle, who took me under her wing and mentored me. She’s the reason I was at the Conclave, actually.”

            “She was?” He realized he’d never asked why she had been there and he’d never heard her speak of it.

            “She insisted I go, she said I needed to shape my own future. She worried I would become like her, never knowing any life but the Circle,” she sighed wistfully. “She wanted me to have the chances she never had.”

            He stood up and leaned back over her on the desk, moving slowly in case she was still struggling with her magic. But the air was no longer humming and she smiled at him invitingly. He braced himself with a hand above her shoulder and gently resumed his caresses on her breast with his other. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she lowered herself from her elbows so she lay beneath him once more. He pressed his lips to her throat and then tugged her earlobe in his teeth before he whispered against her ear, “I’m glad she gave you the chance. I wouldn’t have met you if she hadn’t.”

            She gave a soft moan. “Me, too,” she sighed and he kissed her deeply. She ran her fingers through his hair and he let himself continue pinching and exciting her nipple for several moments more as she let out soft gasps against his lips. The wish fulfillment of having her skin under his fingers after all the months he’d spent dreaming about it was almost too much. He almost felt like he was going to become undone by simply touching her soft, tingling skin. His desire to undo his breeches and beg her to let him take her on his desk was becoming much stronger than it had been before. Now that he was certain she was as inexperienced as he thought, he decided he needed to stop before he overstepped their boundaries. He could be patient and give her all the time she needed to decide if this was what she really wanted.

            He gave her one last fleeting kiss and then tenderly pulled her blouse back over her shoulder. “Will you stay here tonight?” he asked as he reluctantly stood up.

            “Yes,” she smiled, sounding a little breathless as she pushed herself into a sitting position on the desk. “I slept horribly the whole time I was gone, I could use some rest before we head to Halamshiral.”


	44. Insomnia

            “NO!” she cried out and sat up, looking around wildly. The moonlight filtering through the hole in his roof helped her eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, and gradually she could make out the now familiar sights of the loft she slept in.

            “Evelyn – what’s wrong?” Cullen sat up and put his arms around her, pulling her against him.

            She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the salty smell of his skin as she tried to reassure herself that he was alive and holding her. She had dreamed she was back in the Exalted Plains, only the pits had been full of the corpses of her allies and companions as she had seen them in the Fade. Cullen had been on top of the pile, staring at her with cold, dead grey eyes.

            “Bad dream?” he murmured as he stroked her hair.

            “The worst,” she replied softly.

            “How long have you been having nightmares like this, Evelyn? I know you have been after the Fade, but were you before that?” he cupped her cheek in his hand and tilted her face up so he could peer into her eyes.

            “Before I wasn’t able to sleep at all,” she sighed. “When I was in the Fade, the - the Nightmare we were in,” she pushed herself so that she was sitting up on her own, wrapping her arms around her knees before she continued. “The demons changed into our deepest fear, and I – well I’m already scared of corpses. I accidentally found a book in the library on the Mortalitasi when I was younger and it terrified me. But now that I’m the Inquisitor, now that everyone’s depending on me, they weren’t just corpses that I saw in the Fade. They were the corpses of everyone I know. Everyone I care about.”

            Cullen pushed himself up and leaned against her, one arm around her shoulders as he encouraged her to rest her head against him, his chin resting against her hair. “You’re scared of failing,” he murmured.

            She nodded against him. “And it showed me you, it took on your form…you were dead, your eyes cold and grey. You accused me of failing you,” she pressed her lips together as she tried to banish the image.

            He kissed her softly on the forehead. “You haven’t failed me. You couldn’t fail me,” he assured her.

            She gave a sad giggle. “Of course I could. I could fail everyone,” she heaved a sigh. She remembered something that made the fear feel more real to her, something she’d never told him. “I have failed you, once. It never actually happened, or at least - I undid it, but it did happen. I did fail you before.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “That future, the one Dorian and I got trapped in at Redcliffe,” she murmured. “You were dead. You led an assault on the Keep after Alexius transported me into the future, when you thought I was dead. You died in the attempt. In that future, if I hadn’t have been able to fix it, if I hadn’t made it back…you would be dead. I had failed you.”

            He placed a hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to his, searching for something in her eyes. “I remember, you looked so sad when you came back,” he said slowly. “You grabbed my arm and stared at it, like -”

            “I was reassuring myself that you were really alive,” Evelyn nodded.

            He gave her a crooked grin. “Did you – did you care about me then, that long ago?”

            “Yes,” she answered softly. “But I didn’t realize. Not until the attack on Haven, in the Chantry. Not until I thought I was about to give you up, and I heard your voice when you told me you thought I’d surprise you.”

            She watched as his smile widened, like he was thinking about something, remembering something. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You didn’t fail me, Evelyn. You prevented that from happening, and I’m here now. I’m here with you, and it was just a bad dream.”

            He reclined on the pillows once more and she curled herself against him. She tried to distract her mind with the memories of that evening, the way that he had touched her when he laid her back on his desk. With a small smile she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the memory, hoping for better dreams.

 

* * *

 

            Cullen had thought he would sleep more peacefully now that she was back in his arms. Evelyn had only woken once from a nightmare, but even before that he had been lying awake, plagued by his own fears and doubts. It was almost humorous to him, the way that they seemed to take turns needing help sleeping. Except that his seemed to be finally disturbed beyond comfort, the imagined scenarios of his deterioration keeping him awake all night. It was unbearable. His memories, the crippling doubt, the need – all of it had tormented him until even the feeling of Evelyn beside him was uncomfortable. All it did was remind him of how his potential failure could bring everything crashing down.

            He thought about everything she had said after her nightmare had startled her out of her slumber. The fact that she had cared for him for so long had surprised him. He thought of how much he had struggled, after her return from the Hinterlands, when he had realized so unexpectedly that he wanted her. He reminisced on their conversations, on their sparring, on the way she kept seeking him out while he tried to avoid her, on the sad look that came into her eyes every time he brushed her off. Cole had repeated words to him that he had wondered about for months, _‘So stupid, so naïve. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.’_ He knew now what she hadn’t known; she had realized she cared for him, and had pushed herself through a blizzard, injured and close to death to reach him. He wished he had let hope take root sooner, that he hadn’t fought it so much. But now instead of fighting hope as he had, he was fighting the fear of failure, the same fear he now knew she suffered from.

            The sun was beginning to rise, the golden light filtering in through the hole in his roof until it illuminated the loft and he could see her more clearly. He stared down at her, taking in the stunning sight she posed while curled against him. He could tell that she hadn’t slept well while she was gone, it was clear that she was exhausted. Her mouth was hanging open slightly, a small wet spot on his shirt from where she had drooled a little, her breathing accompanied by soft snores. He smiled to himself, marveling in how endearing it all was. She could be so fierce, so determined, the great Herald of Andraste and resolute Inquisitor. Yet here she was, snoring and curled up in a tiny ball in his arms. She looked even more fragile in her sleep, and he realized he had to be one of the only people who had ever seen this unguarded, defenseless side of her. For a moment he forgot his problems as he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She stirred a little and murmured something incoherent in response.

            He reluctantly began to slide himself out from under her so that he could begin his day. He always woke up before her, his sleep lighter and more easily disturbed if he even slept at all, but he knew he had to rise before she awoke. If he didn’t, he was sure he would spend all day in bed with her once she was awake, kissing and exploring her when he needed to be working. She sighed a little when he extricated himself from her at last, and he watched as she snuggled deeper under the blankets in the warm spot he had just vacated. He found himself wondering what he had done to deserve such perfection, just as he always did when he looked at her.

            Carefully he dressed himself in his armor and descended the ladder, hoping not to wake her. She needed her rest, and he sat at his desk and pulled a report near him, intent on guarding her sleep for a few more hours. Then he would seek out Cassandra; just as he had decided he would while he watched Evelyn sleep.


	45. Perseverance

            Evelyn nodded farewell to Leliana when their discussion on the Grand Game was finished and made her way down the tower stairs. She decided to steal a kiss from Cullen before she began her research to prepare for Orlais, since she knew she wouldn’t see him until their war council later. She raced across the bridge connecting the library tower and his office but was surprised to find it empty when she opened the door.

            “Cullen?” she called out softly, wondering if he was in his loft. She could tell he hadn’t slept well. He had seemed exhausted when she had descended the ladder and given him a kiss before she returned to her quarters that morning. She thought maybe he was taking a few moments to rest now in anticipation of his meetings and their war council. But she didn’t hear him stir up above her, and she frowned as she looked around his office. Maybe he was taking a walk, or observing the training in the courtyard.

            Evelyn wandered out the door onto the battlements and looked down into the courtyard but didn’t see him. She saw a scout approaching and stopped her. “Have you seen the Commander?” she asked.

            “He was heading to speak to Seeker Pentaghast, I believe,” the scout pointed to the smith located off the courtyard. Evelyn thanked her and quickly made her way along the battlements to the stairs. She had a sneaking suspicion why he had sought out the Seeker. It had been obvious to her when she had returned that he was struggling, and that morning he had seemed slightly despondent when he saw her. She had tried not to act worried, thinking that he would tell her when he was ready, but now she realized how naïve she had been. He wouldn’t want to concern her with it, she should have known that.

            She could hear their voices as she approached, and for a moment she hesitated at the door, listening.

            “I expect you to keep your word,” she heard Cullen demand. “It’s relentless. I can’t -”

            “You give yourself too little credit,” Cassandra interrupted.

            “If I’m unable to keep the vows I’ve made, then nothing good has come of this. I can’t fail, not now. Would you rather save face than admit -”

            Evelyn’s heart hurt listening to the painful tone of his voice, and she finally opened the door. She had to try, had to reassure him. Cullen broke off mid-sentence as Cassandra and he turned to see her standing there. The Commander raised a hand to his face and dragged it along the stubble on his cheeks and chin in frustration, looking down and shaking his head as he did. He walked out of the room, hesitating beside Evelyn and murmuring, “Forgive me,” before he departed.

            “Cullen -” she tried to call him back, but he didn’t stop. She turned to face Cassandra, feeling hurt that he wouldn’t stay to speak with her.

            “And people say I’m stubborn. This is ridiculous,” Cassandra said as she watched him walk away. She faced Evelyn. “Cullen told you he is no longer taking lyrium, yes?”

            “He did, and I told him I support his decision wholeheartedly,” Evelyn answered firmly. “I’ve even assisted his pain and his headaches with my magic, when he would let me.”

            Cassandra nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “I’d wondered why he began to seem like some days were much better than others. And Adan didn’t tell me where he had heard about those compresses he had begun making, but I could tell they seem to help as well.”

            “I came up with the idea, after I did some research and found the resources they required,” Evelyn admitted, folding her arms.

            Cassandra regarded her carefully for a moment before she spoke. “Am I right in thinking that you…”

            “I care about him,” Evelyn answered the implied question when the other woman trailed off.

            “And that day in the hall, when he said he’d frightened you and made you drop your book - he wasn’t in pain, was he?” The Seeker raised an eyebrow, a humorous quirk of a grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

            Evelyn gave a tiny shake of her head. She was silent, barely noticing the other woman smirking at her answer. She was trying to decipher the sudden change in Cullen’s frame of mind, his renewed struggles. “Cassandra, did something happen while I was gone? Since yesterday when I returned, he’s seemed…much worse than he was before I left, though he was trying to hide it from me.”

            “Not anything specific,” the Seeker sighed. “He’s told me before that it gets worse when he has to deal with certain things from his past, though he never mentioned what they were. I think perhaps your reports on Samson may have been a trigger, seeing as he knew Samson in Kirkwall. But he seems gripped with a fear of failing the Inquisition, although I think it may be more -”

            “He’s worried about failing me,” Evelyn rubbed her forehead in exasperated understanding as she said it.

            “Yes, I believe he is,” Cassandra agreed solemnly. “He asked me to find him a replacement, but I refused. It is not necessary. He is more capable than he believes. If anyone can overcome this, and prove to others who would follow the same path that it is possible – it is him. I’ve known that since I met him in Kirkwall. He just needs to realize it himself.”

            “I agree,” she murmured, chewing a thumb as she thought. “I wish he could see how far he’s come, but he struggles daily, I know. Cassandra, what is your recommendation?”

            “Speak with him,” the Seeker replied. “If anyone can convince him, I believe you can. He’ll listen to you – it’s obvious he cares about you a great deal, and your opinion will matter the most to him.”

            Evelyn nodded. “Thank you for believing in him,” she said quietly before she turned to leave. She made her way across the courtyard at a brisk pace, knowing that she needed to speak with him now. She remembered the small vial of lyrium he had had, and she worried at how desperate he had sounded. She raced up the stairs and pulled the office door open as soon as she reached it, not bothering to knock. Just as she opened it a wooden box sailed past her head and smashed into the door she held, barely missing her as it exploded in wood and glass splinters.

            “Maker’s breath,” Cullen gasped, shock evident in his tone. “I didn’t hear you enter, I -” He trailed off as she stared at him, and she saw the despair and pain evident in his eyes as he leaned over his desk. “Forgive me, Evelyn.”

            “Cullen,” she murmured as she carefully approached him, stepping over the remnants of the small lyrium box he had hurled at the door. “Please, talk to me.”

            “No, you don’t need to, I -” He tried to take a step to meet her but he stumbled and gripped the desk.

            She hurried forward and grabbed his arms, trying to help steady him. “Darling,” she murmured, reaching a hand up to his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? Please, please talk to me – let me help you.”

            He closed his eyes when she called him darling, he momentarily rubbed his cheek against her palm. But then he pulled away and shook his head. “It’s my burden, I never meant for this to interfere. I thought I could do this.”

            “You can,” she told him. “What brought this on? What happened while I was gone?”

            He closed his eyes, pulling away from her and maintaining his grip on the desk as he tried to steady himself. “I’ve told you about what happened in Ferelden. The memories won’t leave me. The torture, my friends being slaughtered in front of me while I was trapped in a magical cage…” he shook his head, like he was trying to banish the memories. “They tried to break my mind, they tried to get me to accept a – a demon. I was rescued – by the Hero of Ferelden, no less. But…how can you be the same person after something like that?”

            Evelyn bit her lip, trying to stop herself from interrupting. All she wanted to do was hold him, longing to take the memories and the pain from him. But she had asked him to talk to her and he seemed like he needed to get it off his chest, so she stood back and let him continue.

            “I still wanted to serve, I wanted to try to protect. So I went to Kirkwall, and yet there…” he sighed. “I couldn’t get past it. I was cruel. I ignored my Knight-Commander’s obvious paranoia and madness, I ignored the harsh way she treated the mages. The worst part is I think I did it intentionally. I thought all mages were like the ones that had nearly driven me mad, that had tortured me. I thought maybe she was right, and I let things go too far. I should have stepped up sooner. I should have listened to Hawke when she brought me her concerns, when she confronted me with evidence. How much of the suffering in Kirkwall could have been stopped if I had?”

            “That’s not entirely your fault, Cullen, you’re not responsible for Meredith’s actions,” she said gently, but he merely shook his head.

            “Isn’t it my fault? It’s why I’m working so hard now, why I want nothing to do with that life anymore. It’s why I left the Order. I have to be better, I have to try to redeem myself. My actions hurt innocent people,” he looked up at her, a pained expression on his face. “Don’t you understand that?”

            “Of course I understand, Cullen. I’ve told you all you can do is try to be better, and you are,” she hurried to assure him. She reached out a hand but he stepped away from her.

            “I could go mad, I could die and leave you all alone. I could end up like Samson. How is that being better, how is that being a better man? I’ve set you up for pain, for heartbreak. You don’t deserve that, Evelyn,” he began pacing, gripping his head in his hands. “There’s only one way, there’s only one way to protect you, to fulfill my obligations to the Inquisition, to keep the vows I’ve made. I should be taking it - I should be taking it so that you don’t have to watch me lose my mind, so that I don’t hurt you. So that I don’t fail.”

            She shook her head and tried to think of what she could say, watching him pace and repeat the declaration, ‘I should be taking it.’ Before she could speak he bellowed and punched the bookcase along the wall in frustration. She jumped and stared at him in shock. She hadn’t known that he was this close to breaking, or that it was her fault. She watched as he stared at his fist, as though he was ashamed of himself, and her heart ached.

            “What do you want?” she asked softly. “Forget about the Inquisition, or me, or the duties you have, the vows you’re trying to keep. What do you want to do, Cullen, all of that aside? Just for yourself?”

            He lifted his head slowly, holding her gaze as he thought. “I…I don’t want to take it,” he murmured. “I want to break the hold it has on me.”

            She gave him a small smile and walked toward him. He watched her approach, his brow still furrowed deeply with despair. Evelyn took his hand in hers and he flinched; he had hurt himself when he hit the bookcase. She stared up at him for a moment, her hand poised above his, and he realized what she was asking and slowly nodded. She concentrated and felt the healing magic flow from her fingers, softly glowing green as she healed his injury. When she finished she raised his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his gloved fingers.

            “That’s your answer, then,” she finally said. “You’ve come too far to give up, Cullen. I believe you can do this, and if you don’t want to take lyrium, you shouldn’t. It’s as simple as that, darling. I know you can succeed.”

            She raised her gaze to see him staring at her, an indecipherable look in his eyes. He lowered his face to hers and she stood on her tiptoes to meet his lips. At first it was a simple kiss, just lips pressing against each other in unspoken agreement. But then he pulled his hand from hers and twisted his fingers into her hair, his other at her waist as he guided her back and pushed her into the bookcase beside them. His mouth was slanting against hers, his tongue impatiently seeking hers out. He was pressing to her urgently, forcing her back against the wooden shelves until she was sure her back was bruising. He removed his hands from her and fumbled with his gloves, throwing them on the floor before he began to pull at the buttons of her top without breaking their kiss.

            “Cullen – wait -” she gasped as he slid his mouth down her throat, lightly nibbling and sucking on it as he continued his progress on her buttons.

            “Evelyn, I want you,” his voice was hoarse, and to emphasize his words he pressed his hips against her so that she was more aware of the bulge in his breeches. “Please, love, let me touch you, let me have you,” he whispered urgently against her lips.

            “I -” she hesitated and wasn’t even fully sure why. He didn’t quite seem himself. This sudden assault on her senses was almost too much as he freed her breasts and caressed them a bit too roughly. He was kissing her desperately, and she could hardly breathe under his suffocating passion. He had gotten her top undone completely and slid a hand along her naked waist, toward her breeches. “Cullen, no,” she said firmly and pushed him back abruptly, more forcefully than she meant to and he stumbled away from her.

            His golden eyes were hazy with lust and for a moment he stared at her indecisively, as though he was considering resuming anyway. But he shook his head as if to clear it and blinked his eyes. “I…dearest, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me, I don’t know what came over me.”

            She leaned against the bookcase and took several deep breaths, her knees weak and her eyes closed. She had been worried about how unexpectedly his mood had changed, how desperately he had acted, but she had still been enjoying herself immensely. If he hadn’t just been so upset, if it had happened at any other time, she wasn’t sure she would have stopped him. His urgency had excited her more than she realized, his pleading words to let him have her had caused an intense throbbing within her. She felt hot and wet between her legs, and she was trying to calm herself, fighting the urge to press her thighs more tightly together in response to the sensation. She knew neither of them would want it to happen like this, but she had to remind herself of that a few times to keep herself from pulling him over to his desk to let him continue.

            “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and full of concern.

            “Yes, I’m fine,” she answered, and she opened her eyes and gave him a small smile. “I just don’t think now is the time…you’re still upset, still struggling.”

            He gave a jerky nod. “You’re right. I just – hearing you say that, believing in me as much as you do,” he stared at her in wonder for a moment. “I never thought anyone could care about me, not if they knew everything. I…” He trailed off, unable to continue.

            She straightened and began to button her top once more. Her breaths were still shaky, her hands trembling slightly, especially after what he had just said. He had been the one struggling with control but now she felt herself trying to clear her head, trying not to suggest they retire to his loft above them. She had a suspicion about where his trailed off statement had been leading, and she bit her lip to keep herself from finishing his thought. “So you believe me?” she asked after a moment.

            “That I can overcome this?” he sighed. “I’ll try to. I’ll try to have as much faith in myself as you seem to have in me.”

            She finished refastening her top and looked at him with a smile. “Any time you need a reminder, just ask.”

            He chuckled a little and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before he bent and picked up his gloves from where he had thrown them. He held them in his hands for a moment before he looked up at her again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

            She took a step toward him and placed a hand on his chest, staring up into his eyes lovingly. “Yes. Please, don’t worry yourself about it. Maybe we can continue this later,” she leaned up and kissed the scar at the corner of his mouth, trying to reassure him. When she pulled away she saw a twinkle in his eyes, as though he was excited by the prospect.


	46. Temptation

            Cullen had set aside his reports and given up on trying to focus on his duties for the afternoon. He had been so determined for Cassandra to replace him, but her refusal and Evelyn’s declaration of her firm belief in him had affected him deeply. He thought about the tender look on her face when she said she knew he could succeed. The memory silenced the crippling doubts for the moment.

            He sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples with a sigh as he remembered the way he had suddenly lost control and slammed Evelyn back into the bookcase, determined to take her. He was ashamed of himself, despite her assurances. Besides being so affected by her support and care, he had been desperate for the feeling of her tingling skin against him. He began to wonder if it reminded him of lyrium, and made him long for it as though it could sate his desire for the drug through touching her. The tingling had to be caused by the magical energy running through her veins like lightning, and he mused over what that meant for his addiction and withdrawal. It probably hadn’t helped that she’d used healing magic on him, since it meant the energy in her veins had been brought closer to the surface mere moments before. He wondered what that could mean for his self-control in the future.

            The lust he had seen so obviously in her eyes after she pushed him away was burned into his memory. She had said she was worried that he was upset still, but he could tell she had been just as overwhelmed with desire as he had been. He found himself glad she had stopped them, but now that he had seen that look in her eyes he worried how much longer either of them would last. His realizations over the tingling sensation of her skin made his mind wander now that he was alone, wondering what that would mean when she was more excited. It had intensified the night before when he shocked her with the new sensation of his tongue on her breast, and the feeling against his tongue had made his knees weak. He imagined running his tongue over all of her, enjoying the prickling vibrations she could cause him as he led her to her release. He wondered what it would feel like inside of her. The thought was more tempting than ever.

            He shook himself slightly, trying to redirect his thoughts. Despite how desperate he was for her, and despite how he had lost control that afternoon, he found a deep hesitation in himself to make love to her. He was curious, trying to figure out why as he stared unseeing at the reports on his desk. He was hesitant to push her before she was ready, he knew that much. The idea that he could accidentally pressure her or hurt her terrified him, especially after what had happened that day. He hadn’t ever been anyone’s first before, and he still felt himself unworthy of claiming that honor for himself with her. The scolding voice still occasionally tried to tell him he wasn’t worthy of the affection of the beautiful and pure Herald of Andraste, but he was getting much better at ignoring it. He was concerned too that he could get her with child, thinking of the danger Hawke had put herself in to help the Inquisition. Evelyn had told him of the desperate way Fenris had looked at Hawke when he found her safe and sound, and he knew that he would feel a similar despair if Evelyn had to face danger while carrying his child. He didn’t want to compromise her while she was still fighting to save Thedas from Corypheus.

            More than all of those reasons, though, he realized he was still worried that she would realize his struggles were too much for her. He found himself still wanting to give her a chance to walk away, which he knew would be harder, and worse for both of them, to do once they had made love. He hated the idea that she could walk away after that and feel even more regret than if she was able to walk away before. It felt to him like that would lend a certain finality to things, that it would bind them together. He realized they had never discussed a future or what they even really were to one another. All he knew was how much he cared for her, and how much she said she felt the same. For the moment, that was enough. In the future, it may not be.

            His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door, and he called for entry. Cassandra opened the door and walked into the office, silently looking around to see that he was alone before she took her seat across from him.

            “Commander,” she greeted after she observed him for a moment. “Are you feeling any better after our discussion earlier?”

            He nodded. “I believe I am, yes.”

            “Was the Inquisitor able to persuade you not to give up?” she asked, and he noticed a slight quirk at the corners of her mouth.

            “Yes, she was,” he answered slowly, furrowing his brow as he stared at the Seeker. She seemed to be trying to fight the urge to laugh.

            “Well, I’m glad that you seem willing to listen to her, at least,” Cassandra mused playfully.

            “She is the Inquisitor, of course I did,” he said, trying to keep his face neutral.

            “She is also a beautiful young woman, who seems quite taken with you,” she replied. “And if I were you, I would make sure you remember how important she is to everyone in Thedas. As well as how young and naïve she seems to be about the ways of the world.”

            “Cassandra, are you…” he trailed off and stared at the Seeker. She seemed like she was threatening him, much as an older sister might.

            “Merely cautioning you, Cullen,” she smiled at him. “She has been through a lot, as have you. It is understandable that you would turn to each other and try to find a little happiness. I just don’t want to see either of you hurt, that is all.”

            Cullen grinned as he looked at the woman sitting across from him. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Cassandra,” he chuckled as she gave him a scowl. “But you’re right. All I intend to do is protect her from harm. She needs someone to look out for her, and I…care for her. Very much.”

            “Excellent. I think it will be good for you,” Cassandra nodded thoughtfully. “You seem more focused, like you’re in less pain when you’re near her. So long as you continue to believe in yourself, and apparently, listen to her, I know you can get through this.”

            “Thank you, Cassandra,” he murmured.

* * *

             “My room. After.”

            She whispered it to him so softly, her lips hardly moving, that for a moment he thought he’d imagined it. She had sidled over to his side of the war table, pretending to need to see a report for herself. Now that Josephine and Leliana were discussing the Empress’ elven lover Briala, she took the opportunity to wink at him and whisper while no one else could hear her. He felt his heart race a little as he saw the inviting look in her eyes, and he completely missed the question the spymaster posed.

            “Commander?” Leliana repeated loudly, and he looked up from Evelyn’s gaze, tearing his eyes away from the way she was biting her bottom lip to stifle her giggles at his distraction.

            “What?” he asked distractedly. “Sorry, Leliana, I -”

            “I was asking how many soldiers you think we could have on standby at the Winter Palace,” Leliana told him, her brows raised suspiciously as she looked at him.

            He cleared his throat, trying to avoid the inquisitive stares of the other advisors as he pretended to look through a report before he answered. Evelyn moved away from him and he tried to keep his eyes on the map and reports in front of him, focusing on the planning and not the sight she posed as she walked away. The rest of the meeting was a blur for him until they finally decided to adjourn until the next day.

            He lingered and shuffled his reports, waiting for the advisors to leave before he followed Evelyn to her room. The scolding voice made a loud return, trying to tell him not to go, that it was too much temptation after that afternoon. But he couldn’t get the playful smirk and wink she’d given him out of his head. When he thought he’d waited long enough he finally grabbed his things and tried to calmly make his way to her quarters.

            As soon as he opened the door to the stairs that led to her room, she reached out a hand and pulled him through. Her fingers were gripping his mantle, she was pulling his face down to hers as she always did when she kissed him, and she impatiently pressed her lips to his.

            “Evelyn – wait -” he tried to say against her kiss.

            She pulled back with a giggle. “My how the tables have turned,” she murmured coyly. She frowned suddenly as she looked at his face. “Darling, are you all right?”

            “I -” he shook his head and pulled away from her gently. He hated himself. “I shouldn’t have come.”

            “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? I can help -”

            “No, it’s not that. I’m ashamed of my actions this afternoon,” he sighed and rubbed his temples. He had been so enthralled by her invitation, and now he was going to ruin it. He kept hesitating, even though she had been trying to initiate their kisses instead of him, clearly showing her own desire. His musings and realizations from that afternoon came roaring back into his mind until all he knew was that staying would be a mistake.

            “I told you I was all right,” she murmured. “Are you still struggling? Do you need some time to think about everything we discussed?”

            She was too good. Always, she was so willing to look out for him and see what he needed. Sometimes it was too much, it was overwhelming how loving and perfect she was. He was suddenly consumed with renewed doubts about how unworthy and undeserving he was of her. “I think I may,” he finally replied.

            “I understand,” she nodded softly, and he could tell she was trying not to look too upset. “Can I – do we need to spend the night apart?”

            “It might be best,” he sighed as he realized he wasn’t sure he could stick with his resolve if he slept beside her. “I just…need some time. I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I thought I was all right.”

            “It is no trouble,” she murmured, and he smiled down at her. She stood on her tiptoes and tilted his head down with her hand on his cheek so that she could press a kiss to the scar at the corner of his mouth. “If you need me, I’ll be here.”

            “Thank you, dearest,” he kissed her on the forehead and swiftly exited through the door beside them before his determination wavered.

            He felt like such a fool. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back, to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault, to tell her his concerns and doubts. He knew she would soothe them away from him, knew that she would smile and press another kiss to his scar and tell him he had no reason to worry. But the scolding voice had finally won out after being silenced for so long. He needed to keep himself from her, at least until he could get himself under control. And right now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do so.

            He made the lonely journey back to his loft, knowing that he was in for a restless, horrible night of sleep without her. With a twinge of regret, he realized he was probably dooming her to the same, and he felt like an even bigger fool.


	47. Dance Lessons

            Evelyn had concluded another meeting with Josephine regarding Orlesian court etiquette and nobles she needed to pay her respects to at the peace talks. The meeting had gone much longer than she expected and she found herself in need of a walk to clear her head. She hadn’t slept well without Cullen beside her, finally back in her own quarters in a regal bed that felt far too big for just one person. It left her feeling restless, and so she sought out the serene mountains surrounding the keep. She climbed the stairs to the battlements and strolled along, deep in thought.

            She was concerned for Cullen, but unlike when he pulled away from her in the past she wasn’t worried about whether or not he cared about her. Instead she wished she could just help him move past his struggles, to erase his pain. She knew it wasn’t that simple though and that he needed time, and so she had resisted her urge to go see him that morning to see how he was faring. She wanted to tell him, she wanted to erase his doubts entirely, but something held her back from saying the word she longed to tell him. Something was causing him to hesitate, some doubt or fear was holding him back, and she didn’t want to add to it by telling him. She couldn’t make him fear hurting her more by saying it, she couldn’t make him fear failing worse than he already did. It was obvious by the way he had held himself back the night before that he needed time. She wasn’t sure what was causing his hesitancy, or what exactly made him doubt her so much. She just knew she needed to respect it and give him time, give him space to understand that she meant every word she said to him.

            She continued along the battlements, lost in her thoughts and concerns, until she suddenly realized she could see him standing before her further along the path. He was looking out at the mountains, and she cautiously approached, unsure if she should disturb him. At the sound of her footsteps he turned and smiled at her before he looked back out at the mountains.

            “You know, I didn’t say thank you for yesterday,” he said once she stood beside him. “I hope you know how grateful I am, how much it meant to me that you believe – that you said…” he sighed. “This sounded better in my head.”

            She smiled and peered into his face. “Are you feeling better?”

            “Yes, I am,” he gave her a crooked grin to reassure her. “I’m sorry about my actions yesterday, and for leaving last night.”

            “I understand, Cullen,” she placed her hand over his where it rested on the stone ramparts.

            “I’ve never told anyone everything that happened to me. I’ve never told anyone about the demon, or about my actions, how despicable I was in Kirkwall,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you could still care for me, after all of that.”

            “I see who you are now, I told you that,” she squeezed his hand. “It doesn’t erase the past, but I believe you are better now, and I believe you can continue to be.”

            He turned his hand to interlace his fingers with hers. “The way I felt about mages, I don’t think I could have cared for you, and the thought of that…” he shook his head slightly. “The thought of that makes me sick. Whatever I fear from magic, whatever horrible memories I have, I don’t think of that when I look at you. You’ve changed so much for me. You’ve done so much to prove how wrong I was – just by being yourself. You’ve helped heal me, helped banish the horrible thoughts that I had about magic and mages. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see things the way I do now. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how grateful I am for you.”

            She squeezed his hand, speechless as she listened to his confession. She hadn’t realized he felt that way about everything - about magic, or her actions.

            “You’re the dearest person to me, Evelyn,” he turned to face her and took her arms in his hands, pulling her closer to him. “I hope you know that.”

            Evelyn stood on her tiptoes as he lowered his face to hers and met his lips in a soft kiss. After a long moment she pulled away from him. “I feel the same, Cullen. I believe in you. I hope you never doubt that again.” He gave her a crooked smile and lowered his lips to hers once more.

 

* * *

 

 

            “I didn’t think you’d be spending time in the library again after your weeks away,” Dorian teased as he took his seat across the table from her. “Why research when you’ve got your lover close at hand again?”

            “He’s in a meeting,” Evelyn replied nonchalantly as she flipped the pages to the chapter she needed. Dorian chuckled at her relaxed attitude in response to his teasing.

            “So what are we researching this time?” Dorian picked up a tome in front of her and frowned when he saw the title. “‘Famous Dances of the Orlesian Court?’”

            “Mmm,” she answered distractedly as she studied the diagram in front of her.

            “Dancing isn’t something you can learn from a book,” he sighed. He set the book down and stood, holding his hand out to her as he did. “Come along, little bird, let’s go where there’s more space.”

            Evelyn set her own book aside and took his hand with a surprised frown. “You know how to dance?”

            “I’m from one of the most prominent families in the Magisterium, of course I know how to dance,” he quipped as he led her from the library. “I’m surprised you don’t, you’re from a noble family, aren’t you? Though I suppose you were rather young when you were sent to that Circle, and the Templars probably didn’t allow you the chance to dance.”

            She laughed at the idea of a ball at the Circle. “No, that would have just given us all ideas,” she agreed. “It would have been sinful, made us think unholy thoughts that maybe we were people, too, instead of just mages.”

            Dorian let out a bark of laughter before he paused in the main hall, considering which way to go. “Let’s see…we could go to the courtyard, but the recruits might get distracted from their sparring by how marvelous I look dancing. We’d set tongues wagging though, maybe they’d stop gossiping about you and your golden lover for a bit.”

            Evelyn giggled and shook her head. “We could practice in my quarters, there’s plenty of room,” she tugged his hand gently and led him to the door to her room. They made their way up the stairs and Dorian paused to look around the vast chamber for the first time.

            “Well, you’ve certainly moved up in the world, it seems. Didn’t you sleep in a broom cupboard at the Circle?” he teased. She scrunched her nose at him and he chuckled. “Now, shall we begin?”

            He held his arms out for her and she stepped forward hesitantly. Even though he was her closest friend, she was nervous about embarrassing herself in front of him. He motioned with his hands for her to step forward, and she finally did with a sigh. He took her in his arms, placing one hand on her waist and holding her other hand in his.

            “Try to follow my lead. I’ll go slowly at first,” he told her. “And don’t look down at your feet, you’ll just trip. Then everyone will be angry with me for injuring the Inquisitor before our big trip to the Winter Palace.”

            Dorian swept her into the steps of a dance and she tried to follow his lead, taking small rushing steps instead of graceful strides like he was. She almost stumbled and he tightened his grip on her waist. “Not so fast - here,” and he guided her slowly through a graceful turn. She managed to follow his lead and he smiled. “Excellent.”

            He continued to spin her and lead her through the dance, and after a few minutes Evelyn was able to keep up with his steps. He began to hum lightly so that they had a rhythm to follow. She noticed him smiling absently as he led her around the empty space in her chambers and she giggled.

            “What?” he asked suspiciously, stopping his humming as he looked down at her.

            “You look so dashing, you remind me of a prince from one of the books I read when I was younger,” she told him.

            “Don’t get any ideas,” he teased with a deep chuckle. “I am no prince charming.”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” she replied thoughtfully. “I mean not for me, but certainly for someone else. Someone much taller, maybe?”

            He missed a step and playfully glared down at her. “Are you still on about that?”

            “I was away for several weeks, and Bull came with me,” she mused. “I only wondered if maybe you two had a happy reunion when we returned.”

            He pursed his lips and ignored her comment as he continued guiding her through the dance.

            “I’ll stop teasing if it makes you uncomfortable. I just think you two get along surprisingly well, and you certainly do flirt with each other quite often,” she said. “But if you’d prefer I won’t bring it up again.”

            Dorian looked thoughtful and shook his head slightly, gazing over her shoulder as he considered something, still leading her effortlessly through the dance. “He’s…more sympathetic and charming than I ever imagined a Qunari could be. I’ll admit I enjoy his company. He was very understanding, after what happened in Redcliffe with my father. He made sure I was all right. And after the Fade, he let me - comfort him, he let me see that he was scared and upset. It was surprising, to say the least.”

            “You deserve a little happiness too, Dorian, instead of just worrying about mine,” Evelyn said softly.

            “I’ll consider your advice,” he smiled at her. “But for now, let’s focus on keeping you from embarrassing yourself in front of the critical eye of those silly Orlesian nobles and their Grand Game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated - you guys are giving me life, I've never posted any writing of mine like this for anyone to read, and I appreciate you all so much. Thank you for reading, so glad you're enjoying it!


	48. The Dagger

            “Darling, it’s late,” Evelyn said from where she sat on the edge of his desk beside him, running her fingers through his hair. “I know you didn’t sleep a wink last night, I can tell. Please come to bed.”

            “I’m behind, after yesterday,” Cullen muttered and shuffled the reports in front of him. “I need to finish just a few more things. They need to be done before we leave tomorrow.”

            She sighed and dropped her hand from his hair. “All right. I suppose, as Inquisitor, I appreciate your dedication, Commander,” she stood and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But as your dearest, I please request that you finish quickly and come join me. I’ll be upstairs reading, when you’re done.”

            He looked up and gave her a small smile. “I’ll try to hurry, I promise.”

            Evelyn nodded with another little sigh and walked over to the ladder, looking at him once more before she ascended the rungs. He watched her climb wistfully, wishing he could join her immediately. But he really did need to catch up on work to pass to his second, Rylen, before they left for Halamshiral. His inability to focus the day before had set him back in their preparations and now he was trying desperately to get everything in order before their journey so that Rylen could handle things more easily while he was away. He shook himself a little to refocus, trying not to think about the warm body or the peaceful sleep awaiting him in his loft.

            He worked as quickly as he could, trying his best not to get distracted so that he could join her sooner. Occasionally he heard her shift in the bed, rolling over to get comfortable, sounding restless as she did so. After well over an hour had passed he heard the bed creak and soft footsteps walked to the ladder. He saw her climb down, only wearing the thin shift that she always wore to sleep in. She approached the desk with her arms folded across her chest as though she was chilled.

            “Still working?” she murmured, and frowned as she circled around to stand beside him. She peered over his shoulder at the report he was writing. “Can I help at all?”

            “I’m almost done,” he told her. She leaned against the desk and picked up a few reports, looking over them thoughtfully.

            “Your hands are shaking,” she mused, not looking up from a report he had written.

            He sighed and stared at his hands for a moment. It was true, but he’d been trying to hide it from her. His reports always took longer when his hands shook, especially this badly. He’d only had three reports to finish but his work was laboriously slow as he tried to make his writing legible. He had to get this work done no matter how long it took or how badly his hands impeded his progress.

            She finally raised her gaze to his and pursed her lips, considering him carefully. “May I?” she asked, and she reached for the quill.

            “Evelyn, please, you don’t need -”

            “What I need is for you to rest. I can be your scribe if that means I get what I want,” she smirked. She pulled the quill from his hand and picked up the report he had been working on. She took the chair across from him and situated herself at the desk before she looked up expectantly, quill poised over the parchment. “Continue, Commander,” she softly ordered him.

            He stared at her for a moment as gratitude, annoyance, and shame all vied for him to say something to put a stop to this. He rubbed his temples and sighed heavily before he accepted that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He knew how stubborn she could be. Cullen began a dictation for her, trying to keep his tone even. He didn’t want her to know how embarrassed he was that she was having to do this for him.

            Evelyn sat listening to him intently, writing quickly as he spoke. Her face was resolute, with the same professional demeanor she always had when she was acting as the Inquisitor and not Evelyn. She looked at him expectantly when he paused, but the look in her clear eyes was reassuring and neutral, as though she did this every day for him. Finally he finished his dictation and she signed it for him before she leaned down and blew softly on the ink to help it dry. She passed it to him and he looked it over. It was obvious that halfway through the handwriting changed, but he was amazed to see how close the signature was to his own.

            “Was this the last one?” she asked.

            “I – yes, it was,” he answered, still staring at how closely she had managed to get his signature. “Evelyn, have you -”

            “Your signature is beautiful,” she cut him off, and he raised his eyes to see her smiling softly at him. “Will you come to bed, now?”

            He looked back down at the report, distracted for a moment more by the sight of his signature done in her hand. He wondered how long she had worked on memorizing it, how often she must have traced it with her fingers to be able to replicate it so elegantly. He’d never thought that maybe she studied his reports to her as thoroughly as he studied the ones she wrote. He realized she was watching him intently and he finally said, “Yes, I will.”

            Evelyn smiled at him and placed his quill in its holder before she stood and led the way to the ladder. He waited until she had climbed up as he always did before he followed her. He was suddenly bone weary, the previous night’s insomnia catching up with him all at once. She curled up on the bed and picked up the book of poems she had been reading from as he began to remove his armor.

            “Cullen,” she suddenly mused, looking at a page in the book she held. “I never thought you would be one for poetry, but I can tell from your notes…you enjoy it a great deal, don’t you?”

            He smiled a little, unsure if he should be embarrassed by her observation. He thought as he hung his armor on its stand and glanced at her to see her watching him intently again. “I suppose, yes I do. After reading so many Chantry texts, so many histories and religious studies during my training, I learned to appreciate the beauty and creativity of poetry. There’s something…simple yet profound about how it captures life so clearly.”

            The smile on her face took his breath away. “It’s just a little unexpected. I -”

            He watched her, trying to figure out why she had stopped speaking so suddenly. She was shaking her head a little, staring down at the book she held. She looked back up at him and smiled.

            “I still feel like it’s too much that you gave me this, I mean - your father gave it to you,” she murmured.

            “I’m glad you have it,” he said and finally walked over to join her on the bed.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it? I can always get another copy, one with less sentimental value for you.”

            “No, really, that’s not necessary. After all that’s not the only -” he hesitated and stopped his confession. He felt his cheeks flush.

            “Not the only what?” she frowned, turning on the bed to face him.

            He sighed. “It’s not the only thing I’ve given to you that was mine originally, that has sentimental value.”

            She raised an eyebrow at him, and after a moment she seemed to understand. “The dagger? I thought the scabbard looked worn, it’s why I was trying to return it to you that night in Haven.”

            “Yes, it was mine,” he admitted. He felt the flush deepen on his cheeks.

            “Not another gift from your family, surely. That’s too much, Cullen,” she was smiling though, as if she was touched but trying to hide how deeply by scolding him.

            “No, actually. I wasn’t sure what you would think, if I told you,” he paused. “It was the dagger given to me after my vigil, when I took on my full responsibilities as a Templar. It was a part of my uniform. It’s very worn now, but the embossed design was the Sword of Mercy. I’ll admit I used to fidget with it, and the design wore down rather quickly.”

            Her eyes seemed to sparkle, her lips parted slightly as she stared at him. “You gave me your dagger? I -”

            “It was a moment of sentiment that I couldn’t quite understand at the time,” he confessed. “I understand now, though. Even then I wished I could go with you, protect you on your first venture for the Inquisition. I suppose I felt like sending my dagger with you could help protect you, like I actually was going with you. Or at least a part of me was. It felt silly at the time, but after it helped you that night -”

            She leaned over and interrupted him with a kiss, her hand cupping his cheek as she pressed her lips firmly to his. She pulled away and looked at him, a soft look in her eyes. “Thank you, Cullen.”

            He stared into her eyes for several long moments, but then mentally shook himself. “We have a long journey tomorrow, we should get some rest.”

            She sighed a little but the smile remained on her face. “You’re right,” she gave him another, deeper kiss. “Good night, darling.”

            “Good night, dearest,” he kissed her forehead and they settled back under the blankets together. As soon as she snuggled against him he felt himself drift off, perfectly content now that she was beside him again.


	49. Restless

 

            The trip to Halamshiral was four days considering how slowly they moved with the number of people they were taking with them. All of her advisors were accompanying her, and Dorian, Iron Bull, Varric, Cassandra, and Vivienne, as well as some of the Inquisition’s forces. Leliana rode beside Evelyn, telling her stories about Orlais and the Grand Game along their journey. Cullen rode on the other side of her, listening quietly to the two women speak and occasionally riding the length of their caravan to check the perimeter before he returned to her side. She shot him furtive smiles when no one was looking, and his crooked grin was always ready to greet her when she did.

            Their camp at night was bustling, with soldiers patrolling and several fires roaring among the canvas tents. Her advisors and companions sat around the same fire, sharing stories and telling jokes until Cassandra would insist it was late and they should get some rest. Cullen sat near Evelyn but avoided touching her in front of everyone, instead leaning close and telling her stories about growing up in Honnleath and his early years with his siblings. She listened intently, asking questions and marveling at the way he so casually reclined on the ground, propped on an elbow as he laughed and regaled her with his memories. One night when everyone else had gone to bed, she noticed him frown and asked if he was in pain. He nodded and she casually tended his aching head before she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and they retired for the night.

            Despite their many traveling companions, they snuck into the same tent to sleep in each other’s arms. They still slept more peacefully when they were together, their nightmares less frequent, their slumber deeper than when they slept separately. But she was beginning to feel restless, each stolen kiss they managed only left her wanting more. The feelings he had stirred in her the day he had been struggling with his withdrawal and had begged her to let him have her hadn’t gone away. Every time he kissed her she felt weak in the knees, the throbbing in between her legs becoming more persistent. She was beginning to wonder how to broach the subject and turn their mutual bed into more than a place for sleep. She suspected that Cullen felt the same as well, and was amazed that he seemed to be able to restrain himself despite how much she could tell he didn’t want to. She noticed an increasing impatience in the way he kissed her and ran his hands over her chest, trying to caress her through her armor and clothes whenever he had the chance. But beyond those stolen caresses, he didn’t push her for more. Something was still making him hesitate.

            On the last night of their journey she asked him to take a walk with her through the trees, no longer able to resist the desire to find some time alone with him, away from where anyone could see or hear them. She held his hand as they walked through the shadows, and she was happy that he had decided to leave his gloves at camp so she could feel his skin against hers. When they had moved far enough away from camp he pushed her suddenly against a tree, kissing her more deeply than he had since they were at Skyhold. His hands ran along her body and he managed to slide one into the top of her armor, freeing her breast and caressing her as he held her pinned to the tree. She moaned, whispered his name against his lips, and ran her fingers through his hair as she tried to pull his face even closer to her.

             She couldn’t get enough of him, she felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him. The throbbing in between her legs intensified under his caresses and devouring lips. One of his thighs was between her legs and she pushed herself against it, seeking some relief. She’d never been so brazen, but she felt close to desperation in her want of him. He grasped her breast more roughly as he felt her rubbing against him and he groaned as he slid his other hand down her waist toward the top of her breeches.

            Some footsteps sounded in the leaves and then they heard a soft grunt and a thud. Cullen raised his face and they both looked through the darkness, searching out the source of the noise. Evelyn let out a surprised gasp when she realized what had made the sound and Cullen quickly placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her. Not far from them, a very large figure that appeared to have horns held another against the trunk of a tree. They heard moans and rushed, guttural whispers. Several buckles clanged, something heavy hit the ground and rustled in the leaves as some article of armor was removed and cast aside. The clouds above them parted and in the moonlight, Evelyn finally saw who it was.

            Iron Bull had Dorian pressed against the tree, kissing his neck as Dorian moaned and whispered something in response, clutching the Qunari’s arms. Bull had removed his leather harness and was pulling at the top of Dorian’s cloth armor to try to get it off of him. Evelyn’s eyes widened and she glanced up at Cullen, who was still holding his hand against her to stifle her gasp, his mouth open slightly as he recognized the other two. He finally looked down at her and he seemed conflicted.

            “They haven’t seen us, but if we leave now they might,” he breathed against her as he lowered his hand from her mouth.

            “They already know anyway,” she replied softly. “Although I don’t want to interrupt them or let them know we saw, I think – I think it could be the first time.”

            He nodded and glanced back at the other two, trying to decide. “It might be best if we try to leave quietly, then,” and with a small sigh he pulled himself away from her. He removed his hand from inside her armor and they both adjusted themselves, Evelyn covering herself once more. He put a finger to his lips to tell her to follow him silently and she nodded, slipping her hand into his. They tried to walk away as quietly as they could but she stepped on a twig and it snapped loudly, echoing through the still night. They froze, listening.

            “Who’s there?” came Bull’s deep baritone through the darkness.

            “Sorry!” Evelyn squeaked as Cullen tried to pull her through the trees more quickly.

            “Little bird, is that you?” Dorian called. He sounded breathless and surprised.

            “We were just leaving,” Cullen gritted out, and as he pulled Evelyn by her hand through the trees she could hear the other two laughing behind them. She giggled as well while Cullen led her back in the direction of camp. He stopped before they reached it and leaned down to steal one last deep kiss from her.

             They snuck back into his tent and stripped out of their armor. She felt jittery, wondering what he would do once they were in bed together.  If she weren’t mistaken, Cullen had been trying to slide a hand into her breeches, and the thought made her giddy with excited anticipation. She wondered if he would continue the action once he had her in his arms in bed. But he held her tightly to him and kissed her forehead as he always did before they settled in. Perhaps he was worried at the noises they would make, worried that someone in the camp would hear them and know. He seemed unwilling to make their shared bed more than a place for sleep and comfort, and she was unsure how to tell him she wanted more especially considering her own inexperience in the matter. She was beginning to wonder at his hesitancy to do so himself, wondering what could possibly be wrong but not knowing how to ask.


	50. Titles

            “And accompanying him, Lady Inquisitor Evelyn Olivia Annabella Trevelyan, Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of the Free Marches, hailing from the Ostwick Circle of Magi. Leader of the Inquisition; The Herald of Andraste, Sent to us by the Maker; Defender of Redcliffe and the one to end the dreaded Mage Rebellion,” the announcement came.

            Cullen watched as Evelyn raised her chin, walking regally down the stairs and holding her head high as a ripple of whispers greeted her introduction. She had fought Leliana and Josephine on the Inquisition representatives wearing masks, and had also refused to do her hair extravagantly or wear any kohl or rouge. Instead her long hair was coiled simply in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her clear eyes framed only by her long, dark lashes. Every eye in the ballroom followed her as the nobles of the Orlesian court finally beheld the Inquisitor. Around him he heard mutters of appreciation, speculations, and even a few pronouncements of her youth and beauty. Behind him he heard a nobleman comment on her figure, and his jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the urge to respond as he waited for the royal herald to call him forward.

            His own introduction as simply, “Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces and former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall,” sounded unimpressive compared to hers. He made his own way to bow to the Empress and then quickly found a spot along the wall lining the room to observe everything he could. He tried to eavesdrop on those around him, tried to keep his eyes peeled for anything suspicious, but his mind continually wandered to the lengthy and notable introduction that accompanied Evelyn. He frequently forgot that she was from a noble family, though if she had still been in the Circle it wouldn’t have mattered. Mages could not inherit titles or lands, but now that she was the Inquisitor and no longer bound by the rules of the Chantry, he found himself wondering. She never acted like she cared for titles or status, but he realized he had nothing to offer her beyond himself. He was plagued by a sudden doubt that she wouldn’t feel herself tied to him if she received an offer of marriage that was advantageous to her or the Inquisition.

            Cullen was a little surprised by his musings as he watched her moving gracefully through the crowd across the ballroom from him. They had never discussed what their intentions were, and instead just enjoyed the time they were able to steal together when they were alone. It suddenly came upon him that he was partially hesitant about their relationship because he wanted a future with her. Except that he didn’t know if she also desired the same, and doubted if she would since he wasn’t a noble as well. He knew now he kept giving her a chance to walk away for someone less damaged because he didn’t think of what they had in the short term. He thought of years to come, of decades, of old age, and a family.

            He wondered if she had even considered it, given everything else going on. Until recently, he hadn’t even let himself think he had a future beyond the Inquisition. He had assumed that he would either die with the Inquisition, Thedas would be sucked up by the Breach, or he would succumb to his lyrium withdrawal. Survival had been the only thing he had focused on for at least the last two years. Now though he found himself desperately hoping for a future, especially since he suddenly had such a thrilling possibility open to him. He stood trying to observe the nobles and eavesdrop, watching her walk around the ballroom, but he was thoroughly distracted by the unexpected realization that came over him.

            He was madly in love with her, and the idea of someone else marrying her made his insides boil.

            His doubts about their future were interrupted when he suddenly realized he was surrounded by a large group of simpering women and even a few men. He looked around and realized they were all batting their eyelashes at him from behind their masks and their fans. Cullen swallowed hard and tried to ignore all of them, but they began in turns to ask him to dance. He politely declined all of them, but they were incredibly insistent and didn’t leave even after he had rejected them. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as they all shuffled to get closer to him.

            “Are you married, Commander?” one of the men asked him.

            “Not yet,” he answered, clearing his throat a little. “But I am – already taken.”

            “Still single, then?” the man observed, his voice dripping with suggestion.

            “Can I get you a drink, Commander Cullen?” one of the women simpered.

            “No, thank you,” he said, and he tugged at the collar of his formal attire a bit, feeling hot under all of this attention.

            “Smile, Commander! You’re so very handsome when you smile,” another woman suggested.

            “He’s just as handsome when he doesn’t,” one of the men chimed in appreciatively. Cullen decided not to respond.

            “You have such beautiful hair, Commander,” the man who had asked if he was married added.

            “Thank you,” Cullen gritted out, trying to keep his tone neutral.

            “You seem to have quite the collection of admirers,” a soft voice sounded beside him abruptly and he looked down to see Evelyn standing there. He felt relief spread over him as he saw the playful smirk she had on her face as she observed the nobles who were fawning over him. “Who are all these people?”

            “I don’t know but they won’t leave me alone,” he murmured.

            “Not enjoying the attention, then?” she raised an eyebrow playfully.

            “Hardly. Anyway yours,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, leaning down slightly so only she would hear him, “yours is the only attention worth having.”

            She giggled lightly and looked away from his group of admirers. “Are you learning anything useful, at least?”

            He sighed. “Unfortunately not. I’m more useful on the battlefield, with strategy or tactics. Orlesian social events don’t fall within my area of expertise,” he shook his head and looked above the heads of those who surrounded him. “I’m afraid I’m out of my element here and not accomplishing much.”

            “So you haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary?” she asked softly.

            “No, but it would be easier if people would stop talking to me,” he sighed. “Other people, that is. Not you.”

            She gave him a radiant smile. “I don’t suppose you’d save a dance for me?”

            “No, thank you,” he replied. She sighed and he looked down at her guiltily. “No, I didn’t mean - Maker’s breath, I’m sorry, Evelyn. I’ve answered that question so many times I’m rejecting it automatically. But I, ah - I’m not one for dancing. The Templars never attended balls.”

            She nodded a little sadly. “I should be getting back to it. I’ve been hearing suspicious things about the Servant’s Wing and I need to find a way in.” She smiled up at him. “I’ll be back later to see how many more admirers you’ve collected.”

            Evelyn pushed past some of the noble women and they all watched her go, gossiping immediately after she passed and looking between Cullen and her departing form. He groaned inwardly, wondering what stories would begin to circulate through the court. He watched as she made her way through the ballroom, lost in his musings again about titles and how much he desperately wished to know if he had a future with her.


	51. A Dance

            “Little bird, you have got to try these nuts,” a deep voice said beside her and Evelyn spun, confused. Iron Bull was standing there, holding out a bowl of nuts to her, trying to encourage her to take some.

            “Not you too, now,” she groaned.

            “I thought you liked being called ‘little bird,’” the Qunari commented and he popped a few nuts in his mouth as he regarded her playfully.

            She sighed and looked away from him, trying to scan the groups of nobles surrounding them. “I just thought you two would come up with pet names for each other, not take up each other’s nicknames for me. Leave me out of whatever’s going on with you,” she quipped.

            Bull chuckled and tried to encourage her again to take a few nuts. She shook her head to decline as Dorian approached, carrying two goblets of wine. “Ah, there you are, my dear,” he said and tried to pass one of the goblets to Evelyn.

            “No, thank you, Dorian, I’m working,” she frowned and looked between her two friends. “I trust you two are enjoying yourselves?”

            “Very much, thank you for asking,” Dorian replied and he began to drink from one of the goblets, but kept the other in his grasp since Evelyn had refused it.

            She shook her head and pursed her lips to bite back a retort. She was still frustrated by the way the previous evening had gone, and now Cullen was surrounded by flirtatious nobles and had refused a dance with her. Not to mention the ridiculous masks the Orlesian nobles wore made it difficult for her to read people’s faces as she usually did. It gave her a distinct disadvantage as she tried to play the Grand Game to save an entire Empire.

            “You’d think you’d be in a better mood after sneaking off into the woods with your golden lover,” Dorian frowned at her.

            “I’d be in a better mood if you two would take this seriously,” she grumbled.

            “We are, Boss,” Bull chimed in, still popping nuts into his mouth. “We’re playing the Grand Game by pretending we’re only here for the food and drink. Loosens people up, so they’ll talk near us. Otherwise, they see the Inquisition uniform and clam up – hard to spy when they do that.”

            She scowled at him and then continued scanning the crowd. It was either a good plan or a really good excuse for their behavior. “If either of you were an occult advisor to the Empress of Orlais, where would you normally be?” she mused aloud.

            “I know where I’d be,” Dorian shrugged, and she waited for him to answer. “The library.”

            Evelyn decided Dorian had a point and made her way to the Grand Library. She hadn’t had any luck finding any more information on the Servant’s Wing, and decided to follow Leliana’s hunch about the occult advisor before she tried to find a way into the locked wing. Bull and Dorian followed her, remarking loudly on the décor of the Winter Palace as though they really were just there for the party. She was beginning to believe they had planned this and actually had a fair point. Nobles seemed more relaxed around them as they pretended to enjoy themselves, instead of the way they had all stiffened when Evelyn had walked by before.

            “Damn, they’re locked,” she muttered when she tried the large doors to the library. She looked around; luckily there was no one in sight. “Keep an eye out, Bull.”

            “Is that supposed to be funny?” he joked, but he stood to block her from sight and kept a look out.

            She put her hand on the door knob and focused, channeling her energy until she could feel it rattling the lock in the door, slowly sliding it aside. The door opened and the three of them quickly hurried inside and shut it behind them. They wandered through the library, looking around, but it was deserted and less than useful.

            “This book is…out of place,” Dorian suddenly observed.

            “What do you mean?” she asked, and walked over to stand beside him.

            “Everything here is perfectly organized and catalogued, but this doesn’t go here at all, it’s in completely the wrong section. A book on the Korcari Wilds in the middle of books on Orlesian history?” Dorian pointed at the book he meant with a finger, both hands still holding his wine glasses.

            Evelyn stepped forward and grabbed the tome he meant. Behind it was a switch. “That seems too easy,” she murmured, but when she pulled the switch a door opened in the wall beside the bookcase.

            “Apparently it is,” Dorian said, and the three of them began to search the room that had opened, which appeared to be a study.

            Aside from a letter addressed to a Lady M. from the Empress, there wasn’t anything that was useful, though it did appear to be the occult advisor’s study. Evelyn sighed and glanced around, feeling even more frustrated. A bell rang in the distance, and the three of them straightened.

            “We should get back, hopefully no one noticed we were gone,” Bull said and popped a few nuts into his mouth as he led the way out of the library. Evelyn followed wearily, trying to decide if it was worth using her magic to break the lock on the Servant’s Wing door. The area was more populated with guests than the library doors had been, and she was more likely to arouse suspicion or get caught.

            Dorian and Iron Bull split off from her and headed toward the gardens, and she approached the doors to the ballroom to speak with her advisors, intending to ask their advice about getting into the Servant’s Wing.

            “Well, well, what have we here?” Evelyn heard from behind her, and she turned away from the ballroom doors to see a woman sauntering slowly toward her. She had dark hair framing her pale face, exquisitely sculptured features, and slanted, yellow eyes. Evelyn stared into the woman’s eyes as she approached, curious about their unusual color. She had seen a few powerful fire mages, their eyes orange and red in their intensity, and several who favored ice, their eyes so blue and pure they almost shone as though lit from within. But this shade of softly glowing yellow was unique; she’d never seen anyone with similar eyes. They reminded her almost of a cat as the woman stalked toward Evelyn as though she were a mouse caught in a trap.

            “The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself,” the woman continued, and she finally stopped before Evelyn and considered her carefully. “What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

            Evelyn watched the woman for a moment before she slowly answered, “I’ve come on urgent business with the Empress.”

            “Yes, I would assume as much,” the other woman mused. She gave a slight bow. “I am Morrigan, Some call me advisor to the Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”

            “A pleasure, Lady Morrigan,” Evelyn returned the small bow.

            “You…have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace,” Morrigan began. “Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

            Evelyn gave a small smile. “I hope so. I could use another ally here.”

            “A sentiment I share, considering recent events.”

            “Recent events?” Evelyn frowned.

            “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor; a key found on the Tevinter’s body,” Morrigan passed her a small bronze key. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”

            Evelyn stared down at the key for a moment, and realized she knew exactly where it must go. “Thank you, Lady Morrigan. I believe I do know where this will lead.”

            “Then I wish you luck in your hunt, my lady,” Morrigan replied smoothly. “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.”

            And with that the other woman gave her an intriguing smile and made her way into the ballroom. Evelyn stared after her for a moment before she followed and made her way to where Leliana stood. She noticed her spymaster attentively following Morrigan’s progress across the ballroom with her eyes.

            “I’ve met the occult advisor,” Evelyn murmured as she stopped beside her spymaster. She pretended to look around the ballroom as they spoke.

            “And?” Leliana prompted her, not removing her gaze from the yellow-eyed woman across the room.

            “She says she killed a Venatori agent, and found this key on the body,” Evelyn answered softly, holding out the key for her spymaster to observe. “I believe it will get me in to the Servant’s Wing, finally. I’m going to go see what I can find. Please make my excuses, should anyone come looking for me.”

            Leliana nodded and Evelyn began to make her way to the doors of the ballroom once more. She looked over her shoulder to see that Cullen was still surrounded by a large group of nobles, but he was watching her intently as she walked across the room. She gave him a grin and exited the ballroom, finally feeling confident that she could get to the bottom of the attempt on the Empress’ life.

 

* * *

 

            Evelyn had needed some air. The peace talks were through, the matter was settled, Duchess Florianne was in custody, and the Empress was still alive. She had even managed to reunite the Empress and her Elven lover, Briala. Morrigan had spoken with her again, and informed her she was going to be joining the Inquisition at the Empress’ request. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the apostate, but she found herself welcoming of her aid. Maybe she’d learn something important from the other woman; she certainly did seem well versed in matters of the arcane.

            For now, though, she wanted some peace and quiet. She had excused herself and stood on one of the balconies staring out at the gardens below her. It had been a long night.

            “I’ve been looking for you,” a deep voice called and she turned to see Cullen approaching her. He stopped beside where she stood at the balcony’s railing and smiled. “Everyone’s waiting inside to congratulate the Inquisitor for saving the Empress and Orlais.”

            Evelyn chuckled and looked away. “I needed some air,” she sighed.

            “Understandable,” he murmured and turned to look out over the grounds beside her. He leaned his arm against hers casually, standing so close she could smell him. Without his mantle he no longer had the smell of leather and campfire smoke that normally clung to him, and she leaned her face closer to his shoulder to breathe him in. He was almost salty, and crisp like fresh soap. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the scent, smiling to herself. It reminded her of spending the night in his arms, which was easily becoming the best part of each of her days.

            “I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight,” he said softly, and she looked up to see him looking at her with concern. “Are you all right?”

            She nodded reassuringly. “I am, I’m just exhausted. Reuniting an Empire is…hard work,” she mused. He chuckled and reached over to squeeze her hand.

            Behind them a new song struck up and Cullen cleared his throat and stepped back. “May I have this dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to her with a small bow.

            “I thought you didn’t dance,” she teased as she accepted his hand and let him pull her to the center of the balcony.

            “I don’t,” he replied. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile at the implied meaning of his words, happy that he was making an exception for her.

            He led her gracefully though the steps, slowly revolving as he held her in his arms for several peaceful moments of silence. He stared down at her, his crooked grin on his face as they danced.

            “For not dancing, you’re quite good at it,” she mused. “When did you learn?”

            He chuckled. “Recently, actually.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “How recently?” She wondered if he had taken someone up on their offer to dance earlier that evening while she was fighting her way through some part of the palace.

            “I ah – asked for help from a friend, before we left for Orlais,” he looked away from her, a funny smile on his face.

            “Which friend?” she was surprised he had thought to do so, and wondered who he would ask to teach him.

            A blush spread over his cheeks and he cleared his throat. “Leliana insisted that we all know how to conduct ourselves while amongst the Orlesian nobles. But I may have had an ulterior motive for asking her to teach me.”

            “And what was that?” Evelyn giggled, trying to picture Cullen asking their spymaster for tips on dancing. She wished she’d been able to see it.

            “This,” he murmured. She looked up at him, noticing his tone was lower, softer, and she saw him watching her with an intensity in his eyes that took her breath away. “I wanted to be able to give you a moment of normalcy. Right now, you’re not the Inquisitor, you didn’t just save Orlais and the Empress. Right now, you’re Evelyn, dancing in the arms of the man who still doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.”

            She felt tears spring up in her eyes, so overcome by emotion at his words that she felt ready for it spill over. “Thank you, Cullen,” she breathed.

            He leaned down to her and laid a tender kiss on her lips, and he was right. For the moment, she forgot that she was the Inquisitor, that she had spent the evening navigating the Grand Game and trying to save an Empire. She was simply Evelyn, dancing for the first time in the arms of the man who cared for her.


	52. Throw Caution to the Wind

            The journey back was again four days, but Evelyn and a few of her companions were going to split off from the caravan after two to pursue leads from Halamshiral. Cullen found himself incredibly disappointed; traveling with her like this had given them a chance to spend their entire days together and he was loathe to head back to Skyhold without her.

            He rode beside her during the day, discussing what had happened at the Winter Palace, and what to expect as she followed up on Halamshiral. In the evenings they sat beside each other in front of the fire, listening to stories from their companions and sharing their own. He asked her about the Circle, about what it was like to study magic. He tried asking about her parents’ estate and her childhood, but found her answers were shorter and she began to frown and so he stopped asking. He decided she would tell him in time, when she was ready to talk about her life before the Circle. But he loved the sound of her voice, the soft smile she got on her face as she answered his other questions. His realization at Halamshiral made him eager to know her even better, to try to learn about every experience that had shaped her into the woman who sat beside him, looking so content and relaxed in his presence. The woman who had changed everything for him.

            The first evening after most of their companions had gone to bed he pulled her into the trees for a walk, and again he pushed her against a tree, his mouth devouring her as his hands roamed over her armor. Before they had left camp he made sure he noted the direction Dorian and Bull had gone so that they were unlikely to be interrupted as they had been a few days before. He wanted to touch every inch of her, to explore her tingling skin beneath his, and he found himself having to resist the urge to strip her armor off in the moonlight. She was becoming bolder under his caresses, pushing her hips into his with as much urgency as he usually did when he held her. The feeling made him light-headed and he stopped before he found a patch of grass to find some relief for their growing impatience. He was still struggling with his doubts, his uncertainty about how much she would regret it and want to walk away if his withdrawal got worse. His lust was becoming even more difficult to resist now, after the realization of his intense desire for a future with her. At the very least he told himself that a hurried tryst in the woods wasn’t what she deserved and so he stopped himself.

            The second night he couldn’t wait until they had reached a more secluded area and when he pushed her against a tree they could still see the campfires glowing not very far from them. She had been shooting him secretive smiles and winks all day, and at camp she had sat closer than usual, the scent of rain overpowering his senses until he felt desperate in his want for her. His impatience seemed to be matched by hers, and it set his soul on fire. He slid a hand into the top of her armor, caressing her more roughly than he meant to in his haste. She responded with a panting gasp against his mouth and a moan of ‘please, darling,’ as she twisted her fingers into his hair. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth as he let his hand wander down her waist to her breeches; her pleading had acted as the only permission he needed, and his doubt fled.

            His heart was racing, again feeling nearly undone simply by the idea of touching her. She whimpered and he slid his fingers under the leather, feeling the contrast of her soft, tingling skin beneath his rough hand as he continued his trail further down. The leather of her breeches made it hard for him to maneuver, and he gently urged one of her legs to the side with his knee, trying to get himself more room. She was moaning, gasping, and his fingers finally reached what he was looking for. He groaned when he felt the heat and wetness he found in between her legs. He hadn’t even touched her yet and she was already slick with excitement. He braced his other hand on the trunk above her before he slid a finger along her slit, trying to reach the small bundle of nerves he was searching for. As soon as he found it she gave a small cry and gasped his name, slowly rolling her hips against the single fingertip he rubbed her with as she whimpered. He was enthralled by the sound, by the way she was trembling. He wanted her to say his name, he wanted to watch her face as he led her to her release. Her hands were gripping his arms, her fingers clutching him tightly as her eyelashes fluttered and she began to moan with each of his finger’s strokes, and then she said his name again, louder than she had before.

            A shocked cry sounded from their left and Cullen looked up quickly to see Josephine standing with her hand over her mouth, staring at them. “Commander – Inquisitor – I – oh Maker I’m so -”

            “Josephine!” Evelyn cried, and Cullen noted how breathless and languid her voice sounded. He found himself thoroughly annoyed that they had again been interrupted; he was wondering just how close he’d gotten to seeing her come undone. Instead they awkwardly parted as he tried to discreetly remove his hand from where it was shoved down the front of her breeches and she adjusted the top of her armor so that her breast was covered again.

            Josephine had spun away, still muttering apologies. “I was heading to – to relieve myself. I’m so sorry, I never dreamed -”

            Cullen cleared his throat, trying to refocus now that the moment had fled. “We’re sorry, Ambassador, we hope we didn’t startle you.”

            Beside him Evelyn was breathing deeply, clearly struggling to recover from the feeling she had just been experiencing. Cullen’s disappointment increased tenfold. “Yes, sorry, Josephine,” she added, her voice shaky.

            “No, no, I’m the one who is sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, you were clearly - _very_ busy,” Josephine’s voice was high-pitched in her embarrassment.

            Cullen was suddenly fighting the urge to laugh. It was just his luck that when he began to try for more with Evelyn they’d gotten interrupted yet again. He should have been more patient and led her further into the trees. He bitterly mused over how much more he could have done to her if he had.

            “I’ll just be going now,” Josephine squeaked and she walked off into the trees away from them.

            “Well, damn,” Evelyn muttered beside him.

            He looked down to see her watching him, and they both burst into laughter. When they had calmed themselves he gestured toward camp. The moment felt ruined and he was beginning to think their luck was cursed; he doubted they could continue without another interruption. She sighed and grumbled something under her breath as she let him escort her back. Once back at his tent they both removed their armor, and he noticed her shooting sly, timid glances at him before he turned his back so she could slip into her shift. He struggled with himself, debating his feelings and hesitations. He had gotten so close to seeing her come undone that he longed to see it actually happen, but he worried he wouldn’t be able to stop himself after he gave her her release. He imagined potential scenarios, the most likely of which was the makeshift cot giving out under the intensity of everything he wanted to do to her and everyone knowing what they had been doing. It wasn’t an ideal scenario for a first time, especially considering the emotional weight he felt would be behind it for both of them.

            But when they climbed in bed together, he felt himself hot and bothered and unable to find the peaceful sleep he normally felt as he curled himself against her back. He felt her shifting and noticed she also seemed restless. He had tried leading her away from everyone else, he had tried to ply her for more where he thought they wouldn’t be interrupted, and again it hadn’t worked. He decided it was time to throw a little caution to the winds, since caution had so far only led him to disappointment. With a silent prayer to the Maker he leaned down and captured her earlobe between his teeth, gently tugging it as he slid his tongue along the delectable skin of her ear. She gave a small gasp and whispered “yes - please, Cullen,” and he responded with a soft hush.

            “I don’t want anyone to hear you, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Please, try to be quiet.”

            He could feel her nod her head against his chest, and noticed it seemed like she was holding her breath in suspense. Slowly he reached a hand to her chest and slid his hand under the thin fabric of her shift so that he could cup her breast in his hand. She gave a nearly inaudible moan and he felt her reach a hand to her mouth to try to stifle the sounds. He smiled, more excited by his command for her to stay quiet than he had thought he would be. He was already hard in his breeches, and he pressed himself against her buttocks to enjoy their softness against his cock.

            He pinched and caressed her nipple between his fingers as he lowered his lips to her throat and left a trail of hot kisses along the white column. She leaned her head back, offering more of her skin to him, still holding a hand pressed to her mouth. He kept caressing her until her breathing became more rapid and he released her breast to move his hand under the blankets.

             He slowly dragged her shift up over her hip. She wasn’t wearing any smallclothes, and he nibbled her ear as he tried to still his mind, not allowing himself to lose control in response to that knowledge. He wanted desperately to take her, but he made himself settle for seeing her come undone with simple caresses instead. He reached between her legs and gently separated them, pulling one up to rest on his thigh so that he could slip his hand more easily between them.

            Her muffled breaths were coming out in pants, and she was clutching her hand to her mouth more tightly. He couldn’t resist the urge to tease her, and he stroked his hand up and down the inside of her parted thigh, getting close to what he sought but not touching it yet. She groaned audibly, and he moved his other hand from under the pillow to cover the one she held against her mouth. “Shh, Evelyn, remember,” he chided her, his voice a husky whisper, and he heard a soft whimper in her throat, muffled by both of their hands over her mouth.

            Finally he let himself touch her, his finger sliding leisurely between her lips. Her body shuddered and she gave another whimper against their hands. She was even wetter than she had been when he touched her against the tree, and he leaned to her ear and whispered her name softly. He was still rubbing his finger slowly along her slit, spreading her excitement over her, but he finally settled his finger on the small pearl he knew would be her undoing. She jerked against him again, a moan deep in her throat. He stroked her, changing his rhythm as she responded to him, and when she began rolling her hips against him he slowed his finger’s pace to a torturously slow stroking. He felt her breathing pick up and heard another muffled cry. The sound made him throb more intensely where he still held himself pressed against her rear.

            He slid his finger lower and found her opening, running his fingertip over the entrance but not pushing inside. She was dripping wet, her thigh beneath her wet with her excess, his finger almost puckering from the moisture the longer he touched her. He kept running his finger against her entrance until he felt her nod her head jerkily against his chest, silently begging him to do it. He slowly, carefully pushed the finger inside of her and was rewarded with more muffled whimpers and a tightening of her muscles around the digit inside of her. He slowly moved it in and out of her for a few moments, letting her adjust to it, before he pressed a second inside of her. He felt her head snap back against his chest and she began lightly thrusting herself against his hand. Her response made him lightheaded, and the tingling that was ever present was more pronounced, emphasized intriguingly by her wet excitement as he slid his fingers in and out of her. The feeling was intoxicating to him.

            He moved his thumb to the small pearl he had abandoned and took up a steady rhythm as he continued lightly thrusting with his fingers, and immediately he felt her throb around the two fingers he had within her. He nibbled her earlobe again, he whispered her name against her, and he felt her shudder suddenly. The throbbing and tingling inside of her made his breath catch, and he fought the urge to roll her over so he could feel it around his hard cock instead of his fingers. She was clenching his fingers inside of her, rolling her hips into his hand, her whimpering and moaning muffled by their hands clutching her mouth. Her eyes were shut tight, her brows furrowed, and he watched her face in awe as she came undone against him. After a few moments he felt her finish, and he slowly withdrew his fingers as he released her mouth finally. She was looking at him, wide-eyed and panting as she also removed her own hand. He held her gaze as he raised the fingers that had been within her to his mouth and slowly sucked her juices off of them as she watched. She gave a soft moan as she watched him taste her, and he lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue shamelessly sliding against hers to make her taste herself on his lips.

            He pulled back from her mouth and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Evelyn,” he murmured. He felt wicked for how abruptly he was snuggling her back against him to sleep, as though he hadn’t so easily led her to her release moments before. It was too tantalizing to tease her, though, to command her to be silent while he made her come and then act like nothing had happened. He felt her trying to catch her breath in his arms, and pulled her tighter against him as though he was just holding her to him like he always did. Instead he was making sure she felt him still hard against the soft cheeks of her rear.


	53. The Crumbling Wall

            Cullen’s actions the night before seemed to have acted as a hammer, knocking down the unspoken hesitancy that had acted as a wall and kept their bed a place for sleep alone. As soon as Evelyn opened her eyes she saw him staring down at her, and without one word they pressed their lips desperately together. It was a sloppy kiss, Evelyn still struggling to fully awaken, and Cullen seemingly too eager to care for finesse. Their teeth clicked against one another, their tongues wrestled too quickly and fell out of rhythm, their lips smashed to each other as he pressed her head down onto the pillow with the intensity of his kiss.

            He rolled over on to her, using his knees to spread her legs to either side of his hips. She grasped the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it over his head. He leaned back quickly to help remove it before he lay on top of her once more and continued their desperate kiss. She dragged her fingers along his back, feeling his corded muscles rippling beneath her fingers, his skin hot and smooth. She dug her nails into him as he began to slide her shift up her body. She hadn’t worn smallclothes the whole return journey after the night he had almost reached for her breeches on their way to Halamshiral. She had hoped to make it easier for him to touch her if he wanted to try again. Between the night before and right now as he slid her shift up so that it rested above her breasts, she found herself glad she had taken up the habit. He groaned as he stared down at her naked body lying beneath him, and suddenly his hands were everywhere, trying to touch every inch of her.

            She delighted in the feeling of his bare chest when he lay back on top of her, the first time she’d felt the pressure of him on top of her, his hot naked flesh against her own. She let out soft whimpers as his hands explored her, his fingers dragging along her skin and making her feel like he was branding her with his possessive touch. He was excited; she could feel him pressing against her through his breeches, the only thing between them. As he kissed her he began grinding his hips between her legs in a rhythm that left her breathless; she could tell what he wanted, and she longed to beg him to do it. She was hot and wet, and she could feel her slick excitement covering his leather breeches where he moved himself against her. He didn’t seem to care. Instead he slid his hand down to touch her, and without the hesitancy he had shown the night before he slid two fingers into her. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she moaned, the sensation sending little shockwaves of pleasure through her until her legs trembled and her mind went blank. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of his fingers inside of her, her nerves in overdrive and momentarily blocking out everything else. He began stroking her with a quick rhythm, still kissing her too eagerly and sloppily, and ran his thumb along her swollen, already excited pearl. She felt close to losing herself already, and tried to keep her gasps and moans quiet as she began to roll her hips against his hand, desperately seeking the release he had given her the night before.

            He was lowering his kisses, dragging his wet mouth along her neck and swirling his tongue around her nipples when she heard voices nearby. Cullen didn’t seem to notice as he focused on lightly nibbling her breast, making her catch her breath at the feeling of his teeth gently tugging her nipple. She was momentarily distracted from his caresses when she heard Dorian’s voice call, “Little bird, are you sleeping in this morning?”

            The Tevinter’s voice was coming from a little further along the row of tents, and she realized he must be outside the tent she had set up with her companions’ to keep up the appearance that she was sleeping alone. Cullen hesitated for a moment, finally hearing the other voices outside, and he lifted his mouth from her breast to glance over his shoulder. He looked back down at her and gave his crooked grin before he increased the depth of his fingers inside her. She moaned, torn between asking him to stop and begging him to continue. She was incredibly close. He seemed to sense it, and he watched her face intently as he kept up his rhythm. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was enjoying watching her struggle to stay quiet.

            “She’s not in there. Hm,” she heard Dorian say from outside. “Ah, of course.”

            Footsteps approached the Commander’s tent and she heard Dorian lightly clear his throat. “Little bird, we need to be going. Also, others are waking up, if you don’t feel like getting caught leaving your dear lover’s tent,” he whispered through the closed flaps.

            As he finished his statement Evelyn suddenly came and gave a rather inopportune cry of surprised pleasure. Cullen hadn’t stopped touching her the whole time Dorian had spoken, and he watched her with a wicked grin on his face as she arched her back and softly cried out his name. He’d intentionally led her to her release, knowing that she’d be heard. He was watching her face closely, almost proudly, as though relishing the fact that someone knew what he was doing to her. Outside of the tent she heard Dorian chuckle, clear his throat, and walk away. “I think she needs a few more minutes to rest,” Evelyn heard him say to someone else.

            The haze of her euphoria began to leave her and she reached down to the laces of Cullen’s breeches to undo them. Her fingers were shaking and desperate, and she pressed fevered kisses to his lips and his throat. She felt an ache in her core, an intense desire to be filled that she hadn’t experienced before the previous night. She’d never been more certain that she wanted him inside of her, even if it meant being heard, even if it meant teasing from the others, even if it meant it was hurried and over too quickly. She just wanted to feel him within her, to feel claimed by him. He groaned and hesitated for a moment before he finally removed his fingers from within her and grabbed one of her wrists, leaving some of her wetness on her own skin. “No, Evelyn,” he said.

            “Please,” she begged and caught his bottom lip with her teeth.

            “There’s not enough time right now for the things I want to do to you,” he breathed against her lips, and she moaned.

            “Like what?” she whispered, thrilled by his words.

            “There’s not enough time to list them all, either,” he kissed her. “You need to get going. Your companions will leave without you if you don’t.”

            She moaned desperately and then heaved a sigh, realizing he was right. After taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she began to try to sit up as Cullen finally rolled off of her. Her legs were shaky when she stood to put on her armor, and she fumbled as she tried to put each of the pieces on. He stood as well to put on his own armor and she realized he meant to see her off. He brushed his hand over his breeches, wiping her excitement off of him and when he saw her watching him he quirked an eyebrow suggestively. The look in his eyes made her want to drag him back to the cot and forget about the others waiting for her. She watched him pull his mantle on and fasten it as she tried to run her fingers through her hair so she could braid it. It was tangled on the back of her head from where she had convulsed against the pillow as she came, and she worried at how messy it must look. She’d never hear the end of it from the others.

            Before they left the tent he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, his mouth moving slowly and possessively against hers as though they had all the time in the world. He released her after several long moments and pressed his lips to her forehead tenderly. As they walked out of the tent, she noticed Cullen seemed to almost swagger, his mouth twisted into a confident smirk. She hurriedly pulled her empty tent down, avoiding Dorian’s gaze as he watched her hastily pack. Cullen meanwhile stood looking over the camp, making sure the patrols were still where they should be and that all was well, looking completely at ease as he always did when he was acting as the Commander. Once Evelyn was packed he walked over to join her as she loaded her saddle with her satchel. He still had that cocky grin on his face.

            “Well, Commander,” she said, her voice trembling and giving her away as she tried to act professional. She could tell Dorian and Iron Bull were trying not to laugh behind her; she could hear their badly suppressed chuckles. “I’ll send you word when we, uh - arrive.”

            “Thank you, Inquisitor,” he drawled, still looking positively smug and almost victorious as he smiled down at her. He knew what he’d done to her, knew the way she was struggling to act natural right now, and he seemed insufferably pleased with himself. “I look forward to your return to Skyhold. Stay safe.”

            She nodded jerkily at him and climbed onto her horse. The saddle pushed her breeches against her and she could feel her lingering excitement, serving as a cold reminder now where it pressed. She shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. His grin was irritating her in the best way possible; she longed to drag him back to his tent and wipe it from his face. She had several tempting ideas of how she’d do it. Instead she blushed under his intense gaze as he locked eyes with her and nodded his farewell. She always hated leaving him, but now she hated it more than ever. She gave a brief, trembling smile to him and quickly turned her horse away.

            Dorian pulled his mount beside her as they took off, and she tried to keep her gaze averted and focused on the road ahead. “So, how has your morning been so far, little bird?” he asked her, and she could hear the humor dripping off every syllable. She shook her head in exasperated embarrassment, pressing her lips together, and Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric all burst into laughter around her.

            “Hey, at least you’re starting off the journey less stressed, Boss,” Bull told her through his laughter.

            “Shut up,” she groaned, but they only laughed harder at her in response. She almost worried Dorian was going to fall off his horse in his mirth. Despite herself she smiled, feeling a bit of the smugness Cullen seemed to have been experiencing. If she was completely honest with herself, she felt a delicious excitement about the fact that someone had heard him make her fall apart.  She’d never thought he’d be so bold, and she found herself eagerly awaiting her return to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a smutty kind of day between this and the one shot I posted as well. Happy Hump Day? 
> 
> ...I'll see myself out.


	54. Plans

            “Witherstalk and spindleweed in honeyed water to help it go down, three to one to one ratio, once a week,” Dorian said as he took his seat beside her at the fire. He had a mischievous smile on his face as he watched her frown.

            “I’m sorry?” she asked, looking up from the report she had been reading.

            “I’m sure Adan has a supply of it already mixed back at Skyhold, but in case you need some this week I have some herbs along with me, by happy coincidence, since we needed to make other tonics for the cold,” he continued, inspecting his hand carefully.

            “Dorian, what are you talking about?”

            “Prevention, little bird,” he locked eyes with her, his gaze managing to simultaneously be serious and playful. “I looked it up for you, just in case you didn’t think to do it. Your little curly, golden babies would be quite delightful but you’ve got enough on your plate right now without morning sickness on top of it all.”

            “What -” she began, and she felt her cheeks flush. She looked back down at her report but didn’t continue reading. She bit her lip as she considered; she knew why he was concerned, knew what he must have assumed he had heard. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him it hadn’t been what he thought, and found she was embarrassed to confess it to him.

            “Is something the matter? You aren’t already, are you? I told you months ago to look into it.” He almost sounded like he was scolding her.

            “No, no, it’s just – it wasn’t like that. That wasn’t – we still haven’t – it was just, um…” she felt the heat in her cheeks increase until she felt warmer than the fire they were sitting beside. Without raising her gaze to him she lifted her hand and flexed a finger, trying to explain wordlessly.

            “Oh,” he said as recognition dawned on him. “You still haven’t? He’s more patient that I thought. Unless you’re holding him at bay?”

            Evelyn sighed and set her report aside so that she could pull her knees to her chest and wrap her arms around them. She stared at the fire and sighed. “I, um – I haven’t…ever.”

            She expected him to laugh, or tease her relentlessly. When she raised her gaze to his face she saw him purse his lips and nod almost thoughtfully as he considered her. “I see,” he finally said. “I’m assuming he knows?”

            “Yes, I told him,” she admitted.

            “So, is he the one delaying or are you?”

            “I’m – not sure, actually,” she responded slowly, realizing she honestly didn’t know. “Sometimes I think it must be me, but he seems – incredibly hesitant. This morning was unexpected, it was like something had changed. I mean it was only last night that he finally -” she broke off and blushed, unable to continue.

            She could tell Dorian was trying to hide a smirk, was trying to keep his face neutral and not laugh at her. “Do you want to?”

            “Yes.”

            “Have you told him?”

            “I don’t know how. He seems like something important is holding him from me. I’m not sure how to explain it,” she shrugged wistfully.

            “Well, he’s a Templar. There’s a chance he lends a particular significance to the act, especially considering you never have. Perhaps his piety is getting in the way,” Dorian suggested.

            Sudden realization came upon Evelyn and she raised a finger to her lips to trace them as she got lost in thought, staring absently into the fire.

            “Something I said, my dear?” Dorian sounded concerned.

            “Can I tell you a secret? And I really would need you to keep it,” she looked up at him slowly, considering. She needed advice; she was pretty sure she knew what was wrong, but wanted her friend’s more experienced opinion on the matter.

            “Cross my heart and hope to be swallowed up by the Breach,” Dorian crossed his heart playfully with a smile.

            “I’m serious, please,” she emphasized. “But, well…he’s not a Templar. I mean, it’s not just that he’s no longer a part of the Order and is with the Inquisition. He stopped taking lyrium – it’s why he gets headaches and shakes. He’s going through withdrawal.”

            Dorian’s eyes widened and he seemed momentarily dumbstruck. It was a surprising response from her usually verbose companion. “For how long?”

            “Since he left Kirkwall and joined the Inquisition,” she answered. “It’s part of why for a time we…weren’t exactly together.”

            Her companion frowned. “Adamant Fortress?” he questioned, and she nodded. Understanding came upon his face. “I thought you seemed rather glum, I couldn’t quite figure it out. I thought maybe you were concerned about what we were facing, about the Grey Wardens falling under Corypheus’ influence. I had no idea - why didn’t you tell me?”

            She gave a tiny shrug. “I didn’t want to talk about it. It hurt too much. But he tried to end things because he thought he needed to spare me the trouble of helping him with it, that he needed to spare me seeing him decline if he gets worse. He made it seem like he thought I need someone younger or healthier than him.” She chewed a thumb absently for a moment. “Dorian, what if he’s doing that now? What if he’s holding back because he worries I’ll still want to leave?”

            The Tevinter tapped his fingers on his chin thoughtfully for several moments, staring into the fire before he spoke. “It’s very possible. He’s a noble sort, of course he would think he needed to protect you like that, even at an expense to himself or what you both want,” he mused. “I think the only thing you can do is talk to him, little bird.”

            She took a deep breath and nodded, staring into the fire as well as she thought.

            “Do you love him?” Dorian asked suddenly.

            Evelyn looked up in surprise and regarded her friend closely for a moment. “I – I do, yes,” she quietly confessed.

            Dorian smirked. “And here I thought my advice would just help you both release some stress. I never thought you were both actually falling in love,” he chuckled for a moment. “I’m happy for you, my dear. But I think you should tell him, since I’m certain you haven’t. I think it may help him get over whatever doubts he seems to be tangled up in.”

          

* * *

           

            There was so much work to do when he got back to Skyhold that time passed quickly. It was a relief, since he had assumed that the days would drag by without seeing her. Instead he was rushing from meetings to training to war councils and writing reports, and before he knew it they already had word that she was returning in a few days’ time.

            His nights passed more slowly than his days as he tried to get some sleep without her beside him. His bed smelled like her, and it was a sweet torment to lay with his face on the pillow, the scent of rain permeating his senses until he was painfully hard just from the smell of her. Everything that had happened on their journey played through his mind as he lay alone staring up through the hole in his roof. He was kept from slumber with memories of their fevered kisses amongst the trees and his realization at Halamshiral that he longed desperately for a future with her in it. But most of all he remembered the way he had boldly claimed her with his caresses, finally allowing himself the sight of her falling apart because of his touch.

            He mused a little at the way his attitude had changed so much between the two moments of pleasure that he had given her. The first time he had touched her, he had wanted it to remain private, secret, not wanting the memory of the first time he saw her come undone ruined by the knowledge that anyone else knew. He’d awoken the next morning and lay playing it through his mind as he stared at her sleeping in his arms. He felt like he could finally see everything clearly. It had made him feel suddenly like he wanted to tell all of Thedas that she was his, to claim her publicly. When she had opened her eyes and looked at him, he had felt overwhelmed with the desire to do so and his hesitancy had fled. If they hadn’t been in camp, if she hadn’t been about to leave, he was sure he would have carefully seduced her and taken her. He had settled for making his desire and claim known, and her response had been more than encouraging. If he’d had any lingering doubts, they had left him when she desperately tried to undo his breeches and softly begged him by simply saying ‘please.’

            Cullen loved her. It filled him with confidence, it suddenly made everything much simpler now that he fully accepted the depth of his feelings. Instead of being restless with doubt as he lay awake in the lonely bed that smelled of his beloved, he began planning. He had a few days before her return to get everything in order, and he knew that she didn’t have any upcoming assignments, that there was about to be a lull as they followed up on their many leads. The Inquisition could do without her for a few days, so long as he made sure everything was properly prepared. He rose with the sun and started putting his armor on with a smile on his face, eager anticipation making his heart race a little as he descended from his ladder to begin to put his plan in action.


	55. Two Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for brief (non-detailed) mention/discussion of a suicide and grief

             Cullen waited for her in the courtyard, and held the reins of her horse as she dismounted. He smiled at her the whole time and noticed that there was a slight blush on her cheeks when she first glanced at him. He could tell she was remembering, and it made him smile more broadly. He asked her about her journey as he walked her to the war council, and he noticed she seemed a little melancholy. When he asked her if she was all right, she simply admitted to being exhausted. He wasn’t quite sure he believed her, but decided not to push the matter until later when they were alone.

            She gave her reports in the war room, listened to her advisors’ updates, and still she looked just a little less resolute and focused than normal. He was distracted watching her, hoping it had nothing to do with him. When she caught his eye though she gave a tiny smile; not as playfully as she normally did, but it assured him that whatever she was dealing with was not likely his fault. At the end of the war council he told her that she was free for the next two weeks, but requested that she meet him later as he had something important to discuss with her. She frowned a little and nodded before she excused herself. Leliana and Josephine both raised their eyebrows at him, smirks playing with the corners of their lips, but he ignored them and followed the Inquisitor from the room. He was still concerned about her mood.

            She didn’t turn to head to her quarters. He had assumed that she was heading to take her usual leisurely bath, but instead she made her way toward the gardens. He stood watching indecisively for a moment, but curiosity got the better of him and he began to follow her carefully to see where she was going.

            Evelyn walked purposefully along the open hallway surrounding the small courtyard and pulled open a door. He recognized it as the door that led to the Chantry. He frowned and waited a few moments before he followed.

            He peered silently into the small room and saw her kneeling before the statue of Andraste. He was confused, and suddenly realized he had never seen her pray. He hadn’t even ever thought to ask her if she was actually Andrastian, though he personally considered her to have truly been sent to them by the Maker. It hadn’t crossed his mind to ask her if she believed the same. Now he watched in curious wonder as she waved her hand over two candles before her and lit them with her magic. He could only see her back, unsure if she was praying or not, but he suddenly realized her body was shaking a little. She was crying.

            Cullen couldn’t resist it; he knew he was intruding, but the sight of her crying so unexpectedly compelled him. He finally crossed the threshold of the Chantry and walked forward to kneel beside her. She jumped a little when she felt his presence and looked up in surprise. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she quickly brushed at them with her fingertips.

            “Evelyn, what’s wrong?” he asked as he stroked her back soothingly.

            “I didn’t hear you come in,” she murmured. “Did you follow me?”

            “I was concerned, I could tell something was bothering you,” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “What is it, dearest?”

            She gave a sigh and looked at the candles, more tears escaping down her cheeks. He reached over and wiped them away. “It’s, um…it’s the anniversary of my mother’s – death.”

            “Your mother?” he asked, and realized he hadn’t known she had died. “I’m so sorry,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, letting her cheek rest against his mantle. For a long moment he just held her before he softly asked, “How long ago did she die?”

            “Three years, now,” she sighed, pulling back from his shoulder and wiping her cheeks.

            “You lit two candles,” he mused suddenly, frowning at the flames.

            “The other is for Bron,” she whispered. “I realized I missed his anniversary. It was a while ago, but with everything going on, I lost track...”

            “Has it also been three years now?” he asked, remembering she had told him it had been two when they had played chess and talked about their siblings. She nodded silently. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you lost them so close together.”

            She wiped another tear away and stared at the candles. He stayed beside her in silence for several more minutes, unsure of how he could comfort her.

            “Would you like to talk about it?” he murmured at last.

            She gave a tiny shrug. “There’s not much to say. Or maybe there is. I just…it always makes me feel so guilty.”

            “What is there to feel guilty about?” he frowned.

            She gave a tiny sigh. “Bron was always sick. The healers told my parents he wouldn’t make it to adulthood – and he didn’t, he died when he was barely seventeen. My mother,” she hesitated, and he could tell she was trying to steady her voice. “My mother took it poorly. She was devastated, after I went to the Circle. She couldn’t have any more children, and she – she lost both of the ones that she had. In different ways, but still – she lost us.”

            Cullen reached over and wiped the fresh tears that slid down her cheek. “That’s not your fault.”

            “She sent me a letter, after Bron’s death. She told me she was proud of me. She hadn’t seen me in over ten years, but she said she knew – she knew that I was going to achieve great things. She said she loved me, very much,” her voice was trembling. “And then a week later I got a second letter from my father, only the second he ever sent me. The first had been about Bron’s – p-passing, not more than a few months before. But this letter was to tell me…my m-mother, she – she took her own life.”

            Cullen felt emotion catch in his throat and he pulled her against him once more. “I’m so sorry, dearest. I can’t imagine.”

            “I’ve always wondered what might have been different, what I could have done differently,” she gave a tiny sob before she continued. “I never went home, you see. The Circle at Ostwick, they would have let me. The First Enchanter frequently offered, she tried to encourage me to go. I told her it was b-better this way, it was better if I didn’t go. I said it would be too p-painful for Bron, for my m-mother.”

            She was overcome by emotion for a moment, crying and unable to continue. He held her and stroked her hair, letting her release her sorrow against him.

            “It was a lie though,” she finally murmured. “I didn’t go home because I was scared I wouldn’t want to go back to the Circle. I was scared of how much it would h-hurt me to see them. And so I decided it was b-best for everyone if it was as though I was no longer a part of the f-family. I never went home. I can’t get that time back, I can’t change what I did. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe…maybe if I’d g-gone home, m-maybe if I’d written -”

            “Dearest, you don’t know that. It’s not your fault,” he kissed the top of her head. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about it. You shouldn’t feel guilty for trying to protect yourself, trying to protect them. The Circle, it – it pulls families apart, I’ve seen it ruin lives. Everything that happened – it’s not your fault.”

            She shook her head and cried against him, and he held her and stroked her back. He wasn’t sure how long he knelt beside her, rocking her gently as he pressed consoling kisses to her hair, wishing there was something he could say to make her pain go away. Finally she seemed to have spent all of her tears, and she pushed lightly against his chest to sit up and wiped at her cheeks and her nose with the back of her hand. She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured. “I’ve never told anyone that, but…I feel better, now that you know. Somehow it helped, just by telling you.”

            He leaned down and gave her a tender kiss. “I’m glad,” he whispered and he kissed her more deeply, trying to assure her, trying to remove the rest of her pain.

 

* * *

 

 

            Evelyn splashed her face with the cool water from the basin, trying to ease the puffy and tight feeling in her eyes from her tears. She had forgone her usual post-journey bath, instead deciding she didn’t want to be alone and accompanying Cullen back to his loft when they left the Chantry. He was finishing up a few things below at his desk, and she took the time to try to steady her nerves and clear her mind. Saying the words out loud to someone, simply admitting her pain to him had been more soothing than she had imagined it would be. It wasn’t his assurances that it wasn’t her fault, just the mere fact that someone else knew, that the burden was no longer hers alone. She smiled a little to herself when she thought of how he had comforted her, of how much solace she had felt crying in his arms.

            She finally began to get out of her armor, stretching as she did so, uncomfortable after riding on horseback and sleeping on the mat in her tent for so long. She hung her armor over the railing as she always did, and then realized she didn’t have her shift with her like she normally did. She hadn’t even gone back to her room; she’d wanted the comfort of his loft so desperately she hadn’t wanted to take any detours. With a momentary frown she looked around the room and then walked over to his trunk and opened it, searching within for one of his shirts. She found one and pulled it on, remembering with a smile the first night she had spent in his arms, wearing his shirt. Still grinning she climbed into the bed and took up the book of poems she had left on the table beside it.

            She didn’t remember falling asleep. Hours later she awoke to find the loft covered in darkness, the moon hidden behind clouds and unable to illuminate the room through the hole in the roof. Cullen had curled himself behind her as he always did, but he was without a shirt, only wearing his breeches. His hand was slipped inside the open lacings of the large shirt, cupping her bare breast. His breathing was heavy, and she realized he was in a deep, peaceful sleep as he held her closely to him. She giggled a little at the familiarity with which he was holding her, but her eyelids drooped once more and she nestled against him, falling back into her own peaceful slumber.


	56. Time Away

            “Yes, that should be sufficient while I’m away,” she heard Cullen saying, his voice drifting up to the loft from the office below her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. He had placed her armor on the foot of the bed so that it wasn’t visible over the railing, and she realized he must be meeting with someone. She frowned a little when she realized what he had said; he was planning on being away?

            She stretched but avoided rising from the bed, knowing it would creak and give away her presence. Even the slight movement from her stretching caused the wood of the frame to groan slightly and she heard Cullen clear his throat below her, as though trying to muffle or distract from the sound.

            “Are you still not going to tell me what urgent business is keeping you away for a week? Surely the business we discussed will take less time than that. Our leads are close now, the Inquisitor’s information on Samson has been incredibly helpful, we’re nearly there,” she heard a familiar voice say. It confirmed her suspicion that he was meeting with Rylen, whom she’d spoken with a few times when he had had reports for the war council or had led the forces that were supporting her outside of Skyhold.

            “I’m confident you can handle pursuing that information, Rylen,” Cullen answered. “By the time we return we’ll be poised to act on the leads, but you can spare both of us while Leliana’s scouts do their work. We’ll be back within a week, after our business concludes.”

            Evelyn frowned as she listened, confused. Cullen hadn’t mentioned a trip the night before at the war council, and she wondered over the ‘we’ that could be spared while her leads on Samson were being pursued. She heard Rylen sigh below her.

            “Yes, Commander,” he finally agreed. “If anything urgent comes up, I’ll send you a report as soon as I can.”

            “Thank you, Rylen. Dismissed,” Cullen said and Evelyn heard the sound of wood scraping as someone pushed back their chair. One of the tower doors opened and closed and for a moment there was only the sound of shuffling parchment. She finally sat up in bed and pushed the sheets back, and the frame creaked as she shifted. The shuffling stopped and a scrape of wood sounded once more, followed by footsteps and the sound of someone climbing the ladder.

            Cullen’s head came into view and he smiled when he saw she was awake. He finished his ascent and walked over to where she sat. He bent down and put his hands on either side of her hips on the edge of the bed and gave her a deep kiss. She was surprised by the intensity he was kissing her with, and raised her hands to his cheeks to steady herself, trying to keep herself from falling back onto the mattress.

            Finally he pulled away and gave her a crooked grin. “Good morning, dearest.”

            “Good morning,” she replied breathlessly.

            “How did you sleep?” he asked, his hands still braced on either side of her so that all she could see, all she could smell was him.

            “Wonderfully,” she smiled. “I hope I didn’t make any noise and interrupt your meeting, I couldn’t tell -”

            He chuckled. “No, no, you didn’t.” He was so close to her, and she had to resist the urge to pull him back onto the bed.

            “Are you going somewhere? I heard you say you were going to be away,” she dragged a nail through his stubble as she said it, enjoying the rough prickly sound that it made.

            “Actually, that was the matter I wanted to discuss with you last night after the war council,” he finally stood and stepped back, but he looked down at her with the same crooked grin on his face. “I have some business to attend to in Ferelden, and I was wondering if you would accompany me. It shouldn’t take longer than a week, and you have no upcoming engagements or assignments.”

            She frowned a little at him, trying to figure out the look behind his eyes. “I…yes, I would like that,” she answered slowly. “What’s the business that calls the Commander away from Skyhold?”

            His eyes remained a mystery, almost looking mischievous as he considered her. “Just some matters I need to handle in person, they shouldn’t take long.”

            “And you need me to accompany you because?”

            “I thought you would like a chance to get away from Skyhold, from your duties for a time. I have something you can help me with and I thought it would be a good opportunity to do so. The business we have won’t take long but in the meantime you can just enjoy some time to be you." He had a twinkle in his eyes.

            “All right,” she agreed. “When do we leave?”

            “This afternoon, if that’s all right with you,” he turned and headed back to the ladder. “I have only a few more preparations to make, and then we can set off.”

            “Have you been planning this for a while?” she raised her eyebrows at him and he chuckled as he began to descend the ladder.

            “Long enough,” he replied. “Will you be ready by midday?”

            “Yes, I can be,” she answered, and he disappeared from view after giving her one last crooked smile.

            She could hear him walking around his desk for a moment and then he left the tower. She frowned, confused by his actions. The prospect of getting away and traveling with him was exciting, but she wasn’t sure what to expect. With a bemused sigh she stood and put her armor on before she also left his office, planning to return to her quarters for a bath and to pack.

* * *

           

            They left just after midday, riding their horses side by side, followed by a small contingent of soldiers. Cullen glanced occasionally at Evelyn and saw a slightly befuddled expression on her face, and he caught her looking his way frequently as they began their journey. He tried not to give away his eagerness, and for a time he just led the way silently, content that his plan was effortlessly being executed thus far. After a while on the road he began casual conversation with her, telling her more stories about Ferelden and his family. She smiled as she listened and seemed perfectly content, even if he could tell she was still a little confused. The soldiers around them took turns patrolling and scouting ahead, reporting the all clear to the Commander before they rejoined the small convoy.

            When the sun began to set they found a place to camp for the night. Evelyn set up her small tent to keep the soldiers from talking, but she retired to his when no one was looking. They’d spent the evening at camp talking peacefully as they ate supper, but once they were in the tent he turned his attention to more amorous pursuits. She seemed slightly surprised when he got into the cot without his shirt, and he lay gently on top of her as he kissed her deeply, letting his hands wander under her thin shift to caress her. He kept his breeches on as a reminder to restrain himself, but he took his time exploring her and stole her moans and gasps with his greedy mouth. He hushed her softly when she moaned too loudly and she frowned at him.

            “Oh, so you’re back to not wanting anyone to hear me?” she softly teased, and bit his lip.

            “Gossip travels through the barracks faster than you can imagine,” he replied with a playful grin.

            “Dorian is an awful gossip and you didn’t care about him hearing,” she raised an eyebrow at him.

            In response he quickened the pace of his fingers within her and when she moaned his name he pressed his lips to hers to stifle the sound. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders and a moment later she arched her back against him and he felt her come undone beneath him. He lifted his lips from hers and reveled in the way she took so long to come back to herself when she was done. He pressed soft kisses all over her face and neck, but when she tried to reach down to his breeches he moved her hands and softly told her, “No, dearest.” She seemed frustrated, and he gently kissed her. “Trust me,” he whispered against her lips, and she sighed a little and nodded.

            The next day passed the same, traveling peacefully together along the road, soldiers patrolling and protecting their small convoy. At night they retired together, and again they spent their time exploring each other’s mouths with deep kisses as he let his hands wander over every inch of her. She finally raised an eyebrow in question after he had given her her release again and softly asked, “Is this why you brought me along? To steal kisses and watch me fall apart every night at camp?”

            He chuckled and kissed her. “I won’t deny it makes the trip more pleasant, but no. Trust me, dearest. I promise you'll see why, tomorrow.”


	57. The Lake

            It had been over two decades since he’d been here, and it took him several moments to collect his thoughts as he looked around the lake. He remembered clearly the last day he’d stood on this pier, his whole life about to change. He hadn’t known then how much would happen, how much he would struggle. But as he stood there looking at the calm waters, he realized that now that he knew where the path would lead him, he wouldn’t change a single thing. Here he stood on this pier, letting the peace of the lake wash over him as he felt his life was once again about to change.

            Evelyn stood beside him, and she stared out at the lake before she raised her gaze, trying to peer into his face. He looked down at her and smiled, then leaned against the post beside him, relaxing casually as he enjoyed the quiet.

            “I used to come here as a child,” he finally said. “It was my own personal escape, my own little haven of solitude and quiet. I love my siblings, but they were very loud. I came here often, and would just stand, looking out at the water, feeling at peace.”

            She reached over and took his hand, giving it a soft squeeze, but she didn’t say anything.

            “I haven’t been here since I was thirteen,” he continued. “The last day I was here was the day I left for my training. My brother finally found me here, and he gave me something.” He reached into the pocket of his breeches and fished out the coin he always carried with him. He held it in his hand and showed it to her.

            She smiled softly and looked up at him. “You still have it?”

            He chuckled. “He just had it in his pocket, it was the only thing he had on him, but he told me it was lucky. I kept it all these years,” he smiled at the memory. “Templars aren’t supposed to keep things like this - we’re supposed to rely on our faith alone to see us through.”

            Evelyn let out a quiet laugh and stared at him, surprised. “You broke the rules? I find that hard to believe.”

            He joined her laughter. “It was one of the only ones I broke.”

            She stared down at the coin for a moment before she said, “It really was lucky, though, if you’ve always had it with you. You survived what happened in Ferelden, you survived Kirkwall. You’ve survived several things that make me believe luck has to be on your side.”

            He swallowed, struggling for a moment with the memories. But he saw the warm smile on her face and the recollections faded. He took her hand in his and put the coin in her palm. “Humor me,” he told her.

            Evelyn closed her fist around the coin, but then she shook her head and held it back out to him. “No, Cullen. I’d like for you to keep it. It’s seen you through so much, and I – I need you to stay lucky. Please, for me.”

            He nodded slowly and took the coin back from her. “You’re right, I suppose. I’d hate to run out of luck now, when I have so much to live for.”

            She stepped forward and placed her hands on his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. He kissed her tenderly, but pulled away with a smile.

            “Is this where you wanted to bring me?” she asked after a moment.

            “Yes,” he admitted. “I found such peace here, growing up. I wanted to give you a day away from everything, a day without the Inquisition or the problems of Thedas. Just us, and no world beyond this peaceful lake.”

            She gave him a radiant smile. “Thank you, Cullen.”

            He took her hand and squeezed it, then led her from the pier. He picked up the small satchel he had set behind them and began to lead her off the pier and along the shore of the lake.

            “Where are we going?” she asked.

            “I thought maybe we could stay here today. I packed us a picnic, if you’d like to enjoy the peace a bit longer,” he looked down to see her still smiling radiantly at him.

            “That sounds wonderful,” she agreed, and she let him lead her a little further along the shoreline.

            He finally found the spot he had decided on, the one he knew from memory. The shore had several trees growing further down toward the lake to create a little hidden alcove on the beach. But even without tree cover he knew they weren’t going to be disturbed. The lake was rarely visited, but he’d also taken the precaution of having soldiers patrol further out, to keep watch to be sure they weren’t interrupted. This was one time he refused to let the moment be ruined by another’s presence.

            Evelyn stood and watched as he unfolded a blanket and spread it on the ground, and then he unpacked the wine and morsels he had brought along. He took his place on the blanket and patted it invitingly, and she sat beside him with a small giggle. “This is quite the afternoon you seem to have planned for us.”

            “As I said, I thought you could use a break. You’ve been dealing with so much, you deserve some rest,” he gave her a brief kiss before he opened the wine and poured it into the goblets he had brought. He toasted her silently before they both took sips, not taking their eyes off each other as they drank. For a time they sat talking about the lake, nibbling on the bread, cheese, and nuts he had brought, and drinking wine as they reclined leisurely beside one another.

            He finally took a steadying breath during a peaceful lull in the conversation, and stared at her before he spoke. He wanted to memorize everything about today, and he took a moment to study her profile as she gazed out at the calm water of the lake. “Evelyn,” he began, and she looked at him with a smile that made his heart race even faster. “I’ll admit I had more reasons to bring you out here than to just give you a break.”

            “I’m shocked to hear it,” she replied lightheartedly.

            “Yes, well,” he chuckled. “I know you’ve probably…noticed my hesitation.”

            She nodded at him silently. Her clear eyes were focused on him attentively in that intense way they always did when she seemed like she was peering into his very soul while she listened. It made him smile as he remembered their early talks at Haven.

            “I admit I was still doubtful, until recently, and wanted to give you a chance to walk away, should you want to. I was still struggling to accept that you could care about me, after everything I’ve done. But I also still worry that one day my withdrawal will be too much for you, that you’ll decide you would rather have someone younger and, well – less broken.”

            She shook her head adamantly. “No, Cullen. I don’t want anyone else,” she said, her voice soft but firm.

            He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the words for a moment before he continued. “I’ll admit too, I, ah – I worry about getting you with child. After Hawke it just - it gave me pause.”

            She giggled a little and he raised his eyes to her gaze. “That...shouldn’t be a problem,” she said slowly, a funny twinkle in her eyes.

            He quirked a brow at her. “Oh?”

            “There’s a, uh, potion…I started taking it after our journey back from Halamshiral. I thought maybe it was wise,” she looked away from him and blushed.

            He laughed and she glanced back up at him, giggling a little as well. “Well that’s one less concern,” he mused. “I just…You’re so dear to me, Evelyn, and I don’t – I don’t want to ruin things, I don’t want to hurt you or make you regret -”

            “Cullen, I love you,” she interrupted him.

            He fell silent and stared at her, momentarily speechless. The look in her eyes took his breath away. He found himself surprised by the determination he could detect under the soft love he saw in their translucent depths. “I love you, too, Evelyn,” he finally said. He had meant to say it first, he had expected to, had been building to it. But hearing her say it made his heart soar. He felt whole, in a way he’d never thought he could.

            It was the sound of her voice, the way she was looking at him, the smile that played softly at the corners of her full lips. He leaned toward her and kissed her deeply, one hand cupping her cheek as he tenderly explored the taste of the wine on her lips. He gently pushed her back on the blanket and lay above her, not breaking their kiss as he began unbuttoning her top. They had both left their armor off; he’d been sure to insist that it wasn’t necessary where they were going. He opened her blouse and she began untying the laces on the leather vest he wore. He sat back to shrug out of it and pull his shirt off before he resumed kissing her.

            He slid his hands over her breasts, taking a few moments to caress her until she moaned against his lips. He smiled at her and slid her top off of her shoulders, setting it beside the blanket on the ground. She was smiling softly back at him, but he noticed a slight tremble to her mouth. “Evelyn,” he murmured, stroking her cheek and running his thumb over her lips. “Are you all right, love?”

            She giggled lightly and pulled him down to her again. “I want you,” she whispered, and he noticed that she seemed to be shivering, her skin prickled with goose bumps, her nipples hardened into tantalizing peaks.

            He ran his tongue down her neck and noticed the tingling under her skin was more intense than normal, and he slid his hands down her waist to unlace her breeches. He was trying to move slowly, to savor everything, but when he removed her boots and breeches he finally saw her naked and willing beneath him and he groaned. He longed to taste her, to touch every inch of her, to feel her around him as she throbbed and cried his name. He spread greedy kisses down her neck and across her chest, pausing to flick his tongue over her hard nipples until she gasped, and then with a satisfied smile he continued his path of kisses lower. He was enjoying the way her flesh seemed to lightly vibrate against his mouth in her excitement. It made him feel like he could never get enough of her.

            Her breath was coming out in pants, and he gently spread her legs and draped her knees over his shoulders, taking his place between them. He slowly kissed the inside of her thighs, trying to calm his own breathing as he slid his tongue closer to what he sought between her legs. She was gasping lightly, her hands gripping the blanket above her head. He was driven wild by the fact that she was already so excited and he hadn’t even really touched her yet. Tortuously slow, he slid his tongue against her slit, finding the pearl that rested at the top. She cried out, softly mewling his name as he repeated the action. He swirled his tongue around her, tenderly stroking the small bundle of nerves, his breath fluttering the soft black hair that pressed against his nose. Her moaning was growing louder, she was still wringing the blanket tightly above her head. She whimpered desperately when he slowed his rhythm to tease her.

            He moved one of his fingers to her opening and slowly pushed it inside of her. He felt her instantly tighten around him, nearly ready for her release. She was positively dripping with excitement. He could feel it covering his chin as he continued his careful licking, and he relished the feeling. He teased her by slowing the rhythm of his wet tongue again as he pushed a second finger into her, stroking inside her gently, before he suddenly increased the rhythm of his tongue against her. Her reaction was immediate. She cried out and he felt her convulse around him, tingling and clenching the fingers inside her, and she rocked her hips lightly against his mouth as his name poured from her lips again and again.

            When he felt her stop he pulled away, bestowing a soft kiss against her thigh before he removed her knees from his shoulders and stood, wiping his chin. She watched him from behind fluttering eyelashes as he undid the laces of his breeches and finally stood naked before her. Cullen saw her eyes widen a little in surprise as she caught sight of him hard and ready for her. He carefully knelt on the blanket, stretching himself over her again, searching out her lips with his own to reassure her.

 

* * *

  

            Evelyn could taste herself on his lips.

            He was kissing her so gently, one hand stroking her waist while he braced himself with his other elbow above her head. She gripped his back, enjoying the feeling of his hot skin beneath her fingers; it was still such a new feeling and she marveled in how wonderful it felt. She noticed that he was holding himself away from her, and she realized he must have worried that he was rushing. He was treating her like she was a wild bird and he needed to move slowly lest she fly away.

            She wrapped her legs around his hips and tried to encourage him down to her. The gesture had the desired effect; he lowered himself to her with a small groan and pressed himself against her fully. She felt his hard, smooth erection against her leg, and she reached down tentatively to take it in her hand. He jerked as though scalded when she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft, and he broke away from their kiss with a gasp. Evelyn held his gaze as she slowly ran her fingers along his length, and his breathing became ragged in response to her shy caresses. She tried to hide her surprise at his size, hoping he couldn’t read it in her eyes. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she found herself a little nervous now that she felt it in her hand.

            He closed his eyes and released a shuddering breath. “Evelyn, I -” he hesitated, but she silenced him tenderly with a kiss. She continued her curious exploration of him, and he stared down at her with an odd look in his eyes. He looked torn between desire and anxiety, and she frowned, confused by his renewed hesitation. She worried he still thought she wasn’t ready. She enclosed him with her fingers again, stroking him slowly and he made a strangled noise as he pressed his forehead into her collar bone, taking steadying breaths.

            “Cullen, please,” she whispered, and she felt a small bead of excitement come from the tip of his erection at her begging. She pumped him a little faster in response and he moaned. “I want this – I love you.”

            He groaned and positioned himself between her thighs, reaching down with his own hand to direct himself to her opening. He hesitated once more, his tip pressed against her entrance, his forehead still pushing into her collar bone. “Oh – Maker, forgive me,” she heard him murmur, barely audible against her chest as he slowly thrust himself into her. He met some resistance at first, but patiently pushed past it in one measured motion until he rested inside her completely.

            It hurt but wasn’t entirely unpleasant. She was so aroused the feeling of being split in two by his size was lessened until it was an enjoyable sort of pain. Evelyn caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she took a deep breath to adjust to it. It was such a new feeling, so full and deep, and she felt a pressure at the base of her throat at the sensation. She shifted her hips against him, spreading her legs a little bit further. Cullen remained completely motionless, breathing raggedly with his forehead still pressed to her collar bone as he braced himself above her with his elbows. The pain had diminished and Evelyn shifted again, digging her fingernails into his lower back, trying to encourage him. With a groan and another soft murmur to the Maker he began thrusting slowly as he tried to ease her into it, trying to be gentle considering his size. The new sensation was overwhelming to her, her head swimming and she moaned each time he pushed himself deeper. She felt every inch of him as he stroked along the inside of her, and she closed her eyes for several moments to block out everything but the blissful feeling of him moving within her.

            Her cries began to increase in volume in response to his movements, and the sound seemed to affect him deeply. He lifted his head finally and twisted his lips against hers, his mouth suffocating and stealing her panting breaths from her. She began to try to respond with her hips to his rhythm and he deepened his thrusts with a groan when he felt her enthusiasm. The sound of flesh hitting flesh mingled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and her gasping cries, interrupting the otherwise peaceful silence around them.

            “Evelyn, you feel – oh, _Maker_ ,” he gasped and pressed a fevered kiss to her lips, his tongue eagerly sliding against hers. He seemed unable to find the words to describe how she felt, and instead placed a hand firmly on her hip to hold her still as he thrust deeper for a moment. He rolled his hips against her before he pulled back again to thrust in once more, repeating this action several times and moaning. His eyes shut and he swore under his breath before he pressed his mouth to hers once more.

            Evelyn arched her back against him, breaking their kiss and crying out his name breathlessly as she felt herself overwhelmed with the need for the same release he had so recently given her. The angle he had created by grabbing her hip had intensified every feeling as he thrust into her and rolled his hips, rubbing the still excited bundle of nerves as he did so. She knew she was close. Cullen groaned and moved his hand from her hip, thrusting more forcefully as he slipped a finger to her slit and began stroking her small, swollen pearl with it. The feeling sent a shockwave of sensation through her and she called his name again, and she begged him urgently when he increased the pressure of his finger against her.

            It hit her with a jolt, and she thrust her hips up wildly against him as she felt herself pushed over the edge, crying out desperately at the feeling. He was staring down at her, wonder on his face, but his brow furrowed and he let out a deep moan. As soon as she slowed her uneven response he pulled himself from her and with one stroke of his hand he began to spill his seed on her belly, shuddering as he finished himself. The hot liquid fell on her skin and made her feel as though she had been branded by him. He shut his eyes tight, his mouth twisted in the crooked smile that was so much a part of him as he tried to catch his breath. He was magnificent above her and she stared at him in awe at what had just happened between them.

            He leaned over her and pressed his forehead against her own, still trying to take deep breaths, his hands above her shoulders to prop himself up. She reached her hands up to his cheeks and held his face between them, marveling at the new sense of intimacy she felt. He opened his eyes and they stared at each other for a moment before he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

            Cullen finally raised himself to his knees and reached for his breeches, searching the pockets for something. He pulled out a simple handkerchief and used it to wipe his seed off of her belly. She watched as he cleaned up the evidence of his release, and noticed he seemed to be greatly enjoying the sight, his scar tugging up in his crooked grin. He finished mopping up her belly, and she felt a thin film of stickiness across her flesh. She bit her lip and smiled to herself, feeling an odd enjoyment of the lingering feeling of his seed on her.

            He lay beside her and pulled her against him, one arm around her shoulders to hold her to him. She wrapped one arm and one leg across him, just as she did when she slept on his shoulder. She traced her finger along the muscles of his bare chest, stopping occasionally to trace a small scar or freckle that she found. She dragged her fingers through the light bit of golden hair he had on his chest, following the trail down his chiseled stomach, past his belly button to the larger amount he had around his cock and ran her fingers through it lightly. She couldn’t get enough of him, nor could she get enough of the smell of his sweat and their lovemaking that clung to both of them. She hadn’t known she would feel _this_ wonderful after; if she had she would have begged him months ago.

            A thought crossed her mind and she giggled. She felt him shift so that he could look into her face. She raised her gaze to his and saw him frowning slightly, trying to discern the cause of her soft laughter. “You planned all of this, didn’t you?” she accused playfully.

            Cullen let out a deep chuckle. “I confess, I freely admit it – I did,” he answered as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes, his mouth twisted in a crooked grin. “I care about you too much not to do something wonderful for something so special. You deserved more than a hurried tryst somewhere where we could get easily interrupted. Especially considering our terrible luck on that account.”

            “This was perfect, but I hope you aren’t going to feel that way every time,” she murmured, half-teasingly.

            “From now on, trust me – I’ll take you whenever, wherever I can,” he laughed, but she knew he was answering seriously. “I’ve never felt anything like this, and I intend to enjoy you as often as I can.”

            She nestled herself against him with a contented sigh. “That sounds perfect as well.”

 

* * *

  

            They napped lightly for a time, and when they awoke he looked up at the sky and sighed, realizing they needed to head back to their camp soon. Evelyn rolled away from him and stretched, and he found himself distracted by the sight of her breasts arching into the air as she did so.

            “We should head back soon, I’d hate for any of the soldiers to feel like they need to come find us,” he told her.

            She gave him a playful grin. “Do we have some time still?”

            He raised an eyebrow at her. “We have some time, but -”

            She giggled and pushed herself to her feet. With a trickle of laughter trailing behind her, she ran down the short beach and into the waters of the lake. Cullen sat up and watched her, marveling at the way she looked like a playful water nymph, naked and splashing as she spun around to look at him. She was smiling mischievously.

            “Come and join me, my love,” she called, and he only waited a moment before he pushed himself to his feet and chased after her. He launched himself at her and hooked her waist with his arm, knocking her further into the lake. He tightened his hold on her so she didn’t get separated from him, and she shrieked playfully as he swept her with him away from the shore. “Cullen! Wait!”

            “I thought you wanted a swim,” he teased her playfully, and she wriggled in his arm until she was facing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his as she circled his waist with her legs to cling to him. He held her tightly to him, the water rocking them as it calmed once more. She pulled back from their kiss after several long moments and stared down at him, the look on her face taking his breath away.

            “I love you,” she murmured, and she pressed a scattering of kisses to his lips.

            “I love you,” he responded with deeper kisses.

 

            He would remember every single detail of this until the day he died.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the slow burn paid off.
> 
> xx,  
> L


	58. Exquisite

            Cullen led her back to camp, holding her hand and pointing out things he remembered from his childhood, memories of playing in the trees and woods with his siblings. She smiled up at him the whole time he spoke, her clear eyes shining brightly as she listened attentively. When they got closer to camp he stopped her and gave her a deep kiss, and then they continued side by side but no longer held hands. Several of the soldiers and scouts nodded at them and seemed to notice their wet hair but none of them said anything as they passed. They spent the evening by the fire, eating supper and speaking quietly to one another about nothing in particular, smiling the whole time.

            Finally he gave a sigh and said, “We do actually have a bit of business to attend before we head back, but it won’t take long.”

            She giggled. “And here I thought I was going to have to censure you for misuse of Inquisition forces,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully.

            He cleared his throat and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. “You still can, later, if you’d like.”

            “What’s the business?” she asked, obviously trying to stop giggling and be more serious for a moment.

            “We’re meeting with a few banns in Redcliffe to discuss Inquisition forces and their continued work in the area. Nothing major, but best handled in person to better alleviate their concerns,” he explained. “I’d put it off for a while but when I started to come up with my plan I realized it was best taken care of now, since we’re nearby.”

            She smiled. “I see,” she nodded, pretending to think hard. “I suppose this detour was not too gross of an infraction, Commander.”

            He smirked at her and looked around the camp. Except for the patrols, the other soldiers had retired for the night. “Shall we?” he asked.

            She nodded enthusiastically and led the way to his tent, looking around to make sure no one was watching them retire together. He followed and as soon as he had her within the tent he pressed her with a kiss and held her tightly to him. He stepped back after a moment and moved the blanket from his cot to the floor of the tent, still worried that the cot couldn’t withstand their passion.

            Cullen pulled her gently by the hand and laid her back on the blanket, quickly working to remove her clothes until she was naked beneath him. He removed his own with as much haste, and then pressed himself down onto her. She eagerly kissed him, letting her hands wander over his chest and his back as he let his wander lower to excite her. He had taken great care the first time, but he was overcome with impatience now and just knew he wanted to be inside her once more. He knew, before the first time, what delicious agony he was dooming himself to by taking her, and he’d asked the Maker for forgiveness for wanting this exquisite torture so much. Now that he knew what it felt like, now that he knew how marvelously it felt to be inside the woman he loved more than life itself, he knew not a moment would go by that he didn’t want to be near her, inside her, loving her.

            She was already wet, and he slipped his fingers inside her as he kissed her. He began to feel the increased tingling he was beginning to read as a sign of her excitement, and he rubbed his thumb against her pearl to arouse her further. She moaned and bit her lip, trying to keep quiet as she reached a hand down to grasp his length. He shut his eyes at the sensation, marveling in how the hesitancy she’d shown the first time seemed gone, replaced instead by curious wonder and more confidence. She slowly slid her hand up and down him, pumping him until he gasped, certain that he was going to lose himself too soon.

            He gently pulled away from her and removed his fingers from within her before he positioned himself at her entrance. She gave a small moan of anticipation and spread her legs a little wider, locking her clear eyes with his as he pushed himself inside of her. He held his breath, trying to still his mind as he enjoyed the feeling of her around him. Just as it had the first time, his initial thrust into her felt like the most profound moment he could imagine experiencing. He gripped her thighs and pushed them back on either side of her chest before he began thrusting deeply into her.

            He watched her face intently for a few moments, but all he saw was enjoyment in the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth flexed as she took panting breaths in response to his movements. Propping himself with his hands on either side of her, he began a relentless pace, unable to hold himself back as he had before. He jerked his hips forcefully, trying to get himself as deep in her as he could, taking her hard and fast until her breathing was accented with quiet gasps that came out in an erratic staccato. He knelt back on his heels and pulled her hips into his lap and she pushed enthusiastically with her feet beside his legs to respond to his quick pace. The sound of him thrusting himself into her was accented by the sound of her rear slapping rapidly against him, and he realized that if anyone walked near the tent they’d know exactly what was happening within.

            But he forgot his concern of being overheard immediately when he felt the tingling increase around him and he groaned, finally feeling what he so desperately craved. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noises she was beginning to make, and he was amazed when she reached with her other hand down to her slit and began stroking herself lightly with one of her fingers. The sight of her touching herself in front of him was thrilling. The sensation within her was heightened as he felt her get closer and he bit his lip hard as he tried to keep himself from moaning loudly in response. He continued his unyielding rhythm, gripping her hips in his hands to hold her steady so that all she could do was take his thrusts into her.

            He felt it before her back arched, before he heard the muffled cry of his name against the hand she still had clapped to her mouth. The throbbing and tingling pulses increased sharply and he nearly lost himself at the same moment, the feeling overwhelming around him. But he kept biting his lip and thrust deeply a few more times until he felt her go limp as she finished. He pulled himself from within her, still unwilling to take the risk even with the potion she’d told him of, and he again spilled his seed on her tight stomach.

            Evelyn’s eyes were shut and a soft smile played across her face, her breathing heavy as she tried to come down from her euphoria. He took a few moments himself, knowing if he tried to stand his legs wouldn’t support him. Finally her eyes opened and she raised her gaze to his, and he saw her pupils were dilated, the translucent color of her eyes almost smoky in her pleasure and the dim lighting of the tent. She giggled breathlessly and raised a hand to her forehead to push some hairs off of her sweaty face. He lowered her hips from his lap finally and stood, looking once more for something to wipe up the mess they had made.

            Her eyes followed him greedily as he walked around the tent naked, and he smiled as he reminded himself that she was actually his, that she loved him and had given herself to him, had let him claim her, that she wanted him just as much. He delicately cleaned them both up and helped her to her feet, but she immediately stumbled to the cot and took her place on it, still breathing heavily.

            “You weren’t kidding when you said you meant to enjoy me as often as you could,” she teased, and she looked like she fell asleep as soon as she’d finished saying it. He chuckled to himself and picked the blanket up and shook it off. He joined her in the cot, spreading the cover over them and pulling her to him. She snuggled closer and he kissed the top of her forehead.

            “I love you, Evelyn,” he said, feeling like he could never say it enough.

            She nuzzled her head against him and sleepily replied, “I love you, too, Cullen.”


	59. The Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just sort of happened, and I have absolutely no regrets. Positively *shameless* smut at the end of the chapter.

            The next day they made the journey to Redcliffe, and as they rode there Cullen filled her in on the banns they would meet with as well as their concerns. Arl Teagen had arranged the meeting as a show of good faith. It was meant to be a way to bridge the tension created by the mage rebellion and Tevinter occupation of Redcliffe. Evelyn found she was nervous, concerned that her presence as a mage would ruffle too many feathers.

            “Don’t be concerned about that,” Cullen told her with a smile when she expressed her fears to him. “Not only are you the Inquisitor, but the fact that we’re meeting with them together is supposed to show them what a diverse, united front the Inquisition is. A former Knight-Commander and a Circle Mage, leading the Inquisition and its forces – it’s intentional that I made sure to bring you along for this particular meeting.”

            She giggled and raised an eyebrow. “When you said you planned everything you really meant it.”

            “Why do you think Leliana and Josephine didn’t raise any objections to us leaving for a week together?” he smirked at her.

            One of their soldiers led them into Redcliffe village carrying the banner of the Inquisition, and many of the villagers stopped and waved, cheering slightly as they saw her. It was a very different reaction than the last time she had been there. She noticed Cullen shoot her a proud look, and he lightly winked at her. She held her head high, trying to play the role of the Inquisitor, even though all she wanted was to be Evelyn, traveling with her lover beside her.

            The banns were to meet them at Redcliffe Keep, and Evelyn found herself struggling to shake the memories from the last time she had been there. Cullen noticed her waver after she dismounted her horse, and he stepped close to her so he could peer down into her face. “Are you all right, my love?” he murmured so no one else could hear him.

            “Yes – I’ll be fine. I just haven’t been here since…” she shrugged and shook her head a little. “I’ll be all right, I just need a moment.”

            He nodded understandingly. “Of course, take your time.”

            “Commander Cullen!” a voice cried out, and they turned to see a nobleman with grey-streaked brown hair and a goatee approaching them. Cullen moved away from Evelyn and she noticed him stand straighter, walk more surely, switching into his role as the Commander easily after playing the role of her lover only moments before. She mused to herself over the way they both seemed to play their parts for the Inquisition, keeping them separate from who they really were. She wondered if it was part of why she always felt so close to him, as though he understood the struggle she faced daily having to keep up the resolute facade she always needed as Inquisitor.

            “Inquisitor,” the man turned to greet her and she again held her head high as she stepped forward to hold her hand out to him. “Teagen Guerrin, Arl of Redcliffe,” he introduced himself as he took her hand and planted a brief kiss to it.

            “A pleasure,” she greeted as he released her hand.

            “Please, you’ve had a long journey from Skyhold, if you’d follow me,” he gestured toward the Keep. Evelyn nodded but as soon as he turned his back she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before she followed him. She opened her eyes and caught Cullen in a concerned frown, and she gave him a small smile to reassure him. He fell into step beside her as they made their way up the steps into the Keep. She tried not to think about the future she had glimpsed, the fear she had felt, the way the walls and floors had been covered in red lyrium and twisted corpses. The fact that the Commander had been dead in that horrible future, slain as he tried to avenge her ‘death.’

            Cullen glanced over his shoulder briefly and then slipped his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers gently. “You’re all right, love,” he breathed, and she gently returned the pressure of his fingers. The simple action made her feel better, and she no longer felt like the walls were closing in on her. They dropped each other’s hands and followed the Arl to the hall to meet the other banns.

            The meeting wasn’t as much of a disaster as Evelyn had feared. A large majority of the banns’ concerns were trivial, simple matters that were easily fixed with promises of cooperation and Inquisition support or troops. Arl Teagen mostly remained silent, watching the proceedings but bringing no concerns of his own. She noticed him watching her as she listened to the banns, and she wondered if he was going to bring up the deal she had made with the mages. His careful regard made her nervous.

            Cullen did the bulk of the negotiations since the forces being promised were under his command, and Evelyn only occasionally chimed in to assure the banns that the Inquisition meant to do everything in its power to help restore order. She noticed a few of them didn’t seem to trust her word, but she continued to hold her head high, resolutely refusing to let what seemed to be their distrust of mages get to her. One in particular was more vocal in his disdain, and she felt her lips tightening as she listened to his tenth diatribe about his lands, the rifts, the Inquisition, and her. Beside her she could see Cullen’s cheek muscles flinching.

            “Why should we trust your Orlesian force, led by an _apostate_ from the Free Marches, who many still believe to have been behind the death of Divine Justinia?” the man finally cried in outrage, and Evelyn sighed.

            She’d expected it, from at least one of them. It didn’t make it easier as every single person in the room turned to face her. Cullen’s cheek muscles were still flexing, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword. She counted to three in her head and then calmly said, “The Inquisition is offering you aid, without asking anything in return -”

            “But what will you ask in the future? Will you expect our support when you march on Ferelden, when you try to claim it for yourself? For Orlais? You already killed the Divine -” the bann cried, more frenzied than before.

            “Enough,” Cullen snapped, his tone dangerous. “We came here in good faith, offering our support and aid. If you do not wish to accept it, that is your decision. But I will not sit idly by while you besmirch the Herald of Andraste.”

            The bann opened his mouth to counter Cullen’s words, but he fell silent at the deadly look on the Commander’s face. Evelyn cleared her throat lightly, realizing she needed to step in before the situation got out of hand. “I understand the concerns you have, but I promise you, we are not an Orlesian force, we are not looking to conquer anything. We only want to help restore order, to stop Corypheus -”

            “And where is the proof this mad, ancient Tevinter magister even exists? We only have your word, how do we know you didn’t invent him to cover up your crimes at the Conclave?” the bann spat at her, emboldened now that he was directing his vitriol at her once more. He was skittishly avoiding Cullen’s gaze, trying to keep from seeing the glare the Commander was giving him. “You’re a mage, for all we know -”

            “I said enough!” Cullen roared and he slammed his fist on the table between them. Evelyn jumped and stared at him, momentarily reminded of the lion she had frequently thought he resembled when they first met. “If you do not wish our aid and only came to hurl accusations and abuse, you are free to go. In fact I insist you do, before I see you out myself.”

            The bann positively shrank under the intensity of the Commander’s gaze, and he looked around the room to see if he would be supported by anyone else. “Arl Teagen -” he squeaked, but the Arl sat regarding him carefully for a moment.

            “If you are not here for aid, you have wasted our time. These were to be productive talks, not a chance to sling mud at one another,” Teagen finally responded. “Bann Hornrowe, I recommend you leave at once before you find yourself having to face down a former Knight-Commander for insulting the Inquisitor.”

            Bann Hornrowe shook like a leaf, a mixture of fear and indignation evident on his face. Evelyn watched as he stuck his nose in the air and turned from the table before he rushed from the room. He made a wide loop of the round table, careful to avoid coming within Cullen’s reach. The Commander watched him go, his eyes practically burning a hole in the man’s retreating form.

            “Lady Trevelyan, please accept my deepest apologies,” Bann Teagen addressed her as soon as the door slammed shut behind Hornrowe. “It is surely understandable that there is plenty of hesitation in Ferelden about what appears to be an Orlesian force operating within our borders. Indeed, I find myself incredibly hesitant about the Inquisition and its intentions. But that does not excuse the man’s actions. I am sorry for that assault on your character.”

            “There is no real harm done,” Evelyn said, trying to keep her tone steady. “We came to these talks to try to ease the obvious tension, and I hope others can see that we intend to help in any way we can. We are not here to invade. We want to help, really,” and as she said it she looked imploringly at the other banns across the table from her.

            “Is it true your forces built the watchtowers for the farmers in the Hinterlands?” one of the banns asked.

            “And got the refugees food and blankets?” another chimed in.

            “I heard one of the refugees in the village say you threw a barrier around their son right as a bandit was about to strike, and that you saved his life,” yet another added.

            She looked to the side and saw Cullen watching her carefully. His eyes were warm once more, no longer full of dangerous rage. He gave her a crooked grin.

            “That’s not all she’s done,” he declared, pride evident in his tone as he spoke. “She closed the Breach, and she fought and survived an attack by an Archdemon. When she says she wants to help, and offers you aid – if I were you, I would accept it.”

 

* * *

 

            Arl Teagen insisted that they stay the night at the Keep before their return to Skyhold, and they joined him for supper in the Great Hall. Evelyn sat listening to he and Cullen discuss the situation in the Hinterlands as she picked at her food and tried to avoid looking around the room. She was trying not to picture it the way she had seen it, covered in red lyrium, corpses scattered with it growing out of them as they decayed.

            “Inquisitor, are you all right?” she heard a deep voice say and she turned to see Cullen staring from where he sat across from her with concern etched on his face. His hand was resting on the table and she saw it twitching a little, like he wanted to reach over to her but knew he shouldn’t.

            “Yes, I apologize, I think I must be tired from our journey,” she murmured. “I’ve been traveling so much lately, I must be exhausted.”

            “I can have someone show you to your room, if you’d like, my lady,” Arl Teagen offered, and she hesitated a moment before she nodded.

            “That would be wonderful, thank you,” she pushed her chair back and followed a serving girl who approached to show her the way. She turned back to the two men who watched her go and gave a slight bow. “Thank you for your hospitality. My lord,” she nodded at the Arl, “Commander,” she gave him a small smile before she turned to take her leave. Cullen was frowning at her, and she knew he was worried and wanted to follow.

            She let the servant lead her to her room, trying to decide how to ask for directions covertly.

            “Your room is right here, my lady,” the servant said, opening the door for Evelyn to enter.

            “Thank you,” she hesitated. “Is the Commander staying in the barracks or is he -”

            “He will be in the room across from you, Arl Teagen insisted he stay within the Keep instead of the barracks with your men,” the girl answered.

            “I see. Thank you,” she nodded to the girl and entered the room before closing the portal behind her.

            The room was large and magnificent, but her mind conjured the memory of what these rooms had looked like as she made her way through the Keep in the future. She took a steadying breath and tried to banish the images, but it was difficult. She needed Cullen. She pressed her ear to the door and didn’t hear anyone outside in the hall, and carefully pulled the door open to look around. The corridor was deserted.

            Evelyn hurriedly shut the door behind her and raced across the hall to open the door to Cullen’s room and slipped inside. She smiled a little to herself as she got an idea, and she began to strip out of her Inquisitor uniform. She crawled onto the large bed and reclined on the pillows, waiting. Her excitement began to push away the memories, and she focused on what would happen, what he would feel like inside of her, so that she could distract herself from the nightmarish images plaguing her.

            Sometime later the door handle turned and Evelyn heard voices in the hall; Cullen was thanking someone for showing him the way. Footsteps departed down the hall and the portal swung open as Cullen entered the room. Evelyn pushed herself into a sitting position and watched him close the door behind himself; he hadn’t turned to look at the bed yet. She pushed her hair off her shoulder and the movement finally caught his attention.

            For a long moment he just stared at her with a crooked grin, but then he turned the lock in the door and slowly began to make his way into the room. His eyes were gleaming in the firelight and he moved slowly like a predator stalking prey. Evelyn felt a shiver run through her body as she watched his approach. She had had her own plan for him, but as she watched him stalk toward her she realized the tables were about to be turned and she was no longer going to be the one in charge.

            “What’s this?” he asked, the tone of his voice closer to the tone he took on when he was the Commander. It sent another shiver through her. “Some hopeful maid, waiting to offer herself to the Commander of the Inquisition for the night?”

            “Y-yes,” she felt compelled to answer, her voice trembling a little with her intense arousal. The look in his eyes was making her wetter than she had gotten lying there thinking about him while she’d waited. She had thought he would be excited to see her naked in his bed, but the way he was addressing her was making her limbs shake. She watched as the corner of his mouth tugged up again in a grin before he looked at her as though he was evaluating her. His eyes roamed over her body from where he stood at the foot of the bed and she sat still, eagerly awaiting his next words.

            “Lie back on the bed,” he told her, and she hurried to comply. He stood staring down at her and began to tug his gloves off, pulling slowly and deliberately at one finger at a time. “Spread your legs like a good girl, so I can see you.”

            She slowly spread her knees and watched as he took in the sight of her.

            “You’re wet,” he observed, his voice getting huskier as he began to undo the fastenings of his mantle.

            “Yes,” she breathed.

            “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and held her gaze as he spoke.

            Her heart was hammering in her chest, her excitement making her feel out of control as she slowly slid her hand down her body. He eagerly watched its progress, and she saw his cheeks flex when he saw her finger finally find what it was looking for. He took in the sight of her stroking herself for a few moments before he continued removing his armor. He didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time.

            He finally removed his breeches and when she saw that he was hard already she moaned as the sight sent pleasure coursing up from the pearl she was touching. He knelt on the bed and crawled toward her, stopping in between her legs without touching her. His gaze was still fixed on where she was playing with herself. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, and he took his cock in his hand and gave it a few strokes to draw her attention to it. He locked eyes with her as he touched himself, the same commanding, predatory look in his golden gaze.

            “Yes,” she moaned.

            “Yes, what?” he prompted her.

            She bit her lip, for a moment overwhelmed by the feeling his voice was sending through her. “Yes, Commander,” she finally answered.

            “Are you close?” he asked, still stroking himself as he stared in between her legs.

            “Yes.”

            “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered and she did so, spreading herself before him as wide as she could.

            He finally positioned himself over her, still holding his cock in one hand and not touching any part of her. “Is this what you came here for?” he brushed the tip of his erection against her wet entrance and she moaned loudly.

            “Y-yes,” she gasped.

            “Ask me for it,” he commanded, and the tone of his voice nearly made her lose herself as she listened to it.

            “Please, Commander, please -” she cut off with a gasp when he pushed his tip inside her briefly before he pulled himself out again.

            “Please what?” he repeated the motion and Evelyn cried out.

            “Please, Commander, take me – I want you inside me, please,” she moaned.

            He slid himself into her a tiny bit more and withdrew again and she groaned in desperation. He did this a few times, going a fraction deeper each time. Evelyn could tell she was close to coming undone, and as he pumped his tip into her once more she cried out, on the edge.

            “Are you going to come for me?” he asked, and she noticed his breathing was ragged. He was having to hold himself back, she could tell.

            “Yes - _yes, Commander_ -” she cried loudly and as it hit her he pushed himself deep into her and began thrusting roughly while she fell apart around him, almost sobbing as she did so. His sudden presence inside of her was overwhelming and she felt her mind go blank as the intensity of her orgasm was heightened as he plunged into her as far as he could. She went limp when she finished, and he leaned over and kissed her deeply as he continued thrusting into her. He lay down on her, pressing her with his weight into the soft bed beneath her, his hands wandering over her breasts and into her hair as he kissed her passionately. She finally came back to her senses and wrapped her legs around him, her fingers gripping his back tightly as he rolled his hips in steady thrusts.

            “Cullen,” she moaned against his lips, and he smiled down at her before he resumed their deep kiss.

            When she could feel herself getting close again she felt him slip a finger down between them, still kissing her as he began trying to get her to come again. She moaned and whispered incoherently, unable to form any words except his name as she felt herself fall apart for the second time. Moments later in her haze of pleasure she felt him pull himself from within her and finish himself on her skin. She sighed a little to herself; she was beginning to wonder what it would feel like if he finished with her, within her. But she knew he was still so worried about getting her with child and decided she could be patient.

            He propped himself on his elbows above her and stared lovingly into her face. She giggled a little as she peered up at him, the look in his eyes so different from the one he’d had when he saw her naked in his bed.

            “I see you found my room,” he murmured playfully.

            “All I had to do was ask if you were sleeping in the barracks, and she told me where you’d be,” she smiled. “I’m glad it really was your room, or that would have been hard to explain.”

            He chuckled and planted a kiss against her lips. “Did I help you forget your bad memories?”

            “Mmm, yes, thank you,” she said, and then eyed him warily for a moment. “Oh is that what that was?”

            He finally pulled himself away from her and looked for a handkerchief like always. He gave a crooked grin as he looked at her. “I thought maybe it would help.”

            She giggled again. “And here I thought it was just one of the items on your list of ‘things you want to do to me,’” she teased.

            “Oh it was,” he smiled seductively as he wiped his seed off her belly. “Trust me, love, we’ve only gotten started with those.”


	60. Night Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by my musings on what Cullen would do without Evelyn - the answer is, he's much better off with her in his life.
> 
> Parts of this chapter (the beginning especially) may be slightly disturbing. Cullen has a nightmare, though the most awful bits are just heavily hinted at - but hinted at several times throughout. Just a warning. 
> 
> TW for forced voyeurism, for lack of a better phrase.

            “But it can offer you power,” Uldred leered at him. “It can give you everything you want – think of all you could achieve, all you could take for yourself, all you could _be_.”

            The demon moved closer to the cage, and shifted, changed. It was no longer purple, no longer had horns. It was shrinking, no longer as tall as him. It took on a petite form, naked and perfect, long black hair cascading down to the waist, full lips pouting up at him.

            “Just accept,” Uldred continued. “You know you want to. I can tell this is what you really want.”

            But the eyes, the beautiful eyes of the figure before him were dull, holding no hint of the intense spark of life that should be there. She was perfect, except for the lightning eyes he loved so much.

            “No, NO!” he screamed. “I won’t, I won’t.”

            _“Cullen! Cullen, love, wake up,” he heard a soft voice plead with him._

            It was the voice of the one before him, but the lips weren’t moving and she wasn’t speaking. Uldred was still leering, and he reached over to touch the figure before the cage, caressing it intimately to draw Cullen’s attention to its softer curves.

            “Leave me - leave me alone, I won’t!” He cried. He didn’t want to see Uldred touching her like that, he didn’t want anyone but him to touch her like that. “Stop! Not her, please – please stop,” he begged desperately.

            The beautiful figure’s eyes were still wrong, and as she began to respond to Uldred’s touch they flashed yellow. It couldn’t be – that was all wrong.  

            _“Cullen, please, love – you’re safe, you’re here with me,” the voice sounded fearful, he felt something soft touching his cheek. “Love, please, please open your eyes – look at me.”_

            He closed his eyes so that he couldn’t see what Uldred was doing to her, and when he opened them again he expected to see the cage, to see Uldred looking at him in anger, knowing that he had again refused, ready to torture him in retaliation, to try to break him.

            Instead he saw her, only he could tell instantly it really was her. The bright eyes peering down at him full of love and concern held the intense spark of life that touched his very soul. He could see it clearly even through the darkness of the guest room they were in.

            “Cullen?” she asked softly, stroking his cheek lovingly with her hand.

            “Evelyn,” he breathed, relief spreading through him as he realized he was actually awake, that he wasn’t back in that cage, that he wasn’t about to be tortured. She was actually really her, and not a poor imitation.

            She smiled at him, she reached her thumb over to trace the scar at the corner of his mouth. “You’re all right now, love,” she murmured, and she leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “You’re here with me, and it was just a dream.”

            Cullen reached up to wrap his arms around her and pulled her close against him. He buried his face against the top of her head, breathing in the smell of a spring storm, overwhelming his senses with the feel and smell of her to try to erase the nightmare. It had been a while since his nightmares had been so vivid, and they had never taken that turn, the demon had never taken her form. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Uldred reaching over to touch her, the way she had begun to respond, her eyes flashing yellow. He squeezed her tighter, his heart racing as the images played through his mind.

            “Love, what’s wrong?” she whispered, and tried to lift herself up in his arms so she could look down at him. She propped herself with her hands above his shoulders, her hair falling around his face like curtains of midnight, blocking everything else from view except for her face etched with concern as she looked at him.

            “I -” he tried to begin, but he couldn’t put it into words. Saying it aloud would be too horrible, would somehow make it real. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, but now that he couldn’t see her face above him his mind focused on the way Uldred’s hand had –

            His eyes flew open once more, and he tried to take a deep breath but somehow found he couldn’t. Evelyn was staring down at him, her brows still furrowed as she watched his face. She moved and placed her knee on the other side of him so that he was lying beneath her, between her legs. Slowly she lowered her lips to his and began a slow kiss, moving her mouth against his as if she could remove the pain and nightmare through the careful ministrations of her touch.

            For several long moments she simply kissed him, unhurried in her movements, trying to wordlessly encourage him to focus on nothing but the feeling of her lips. He began to feel the fear fade away, but he still occasionally opened his eyes as she kissed him so that he couldn’t see the images, so that he could assure himself it really was her. She seemed to sense that he was still struggling intensely, and her hands slowly began to wander over his skin, caressing his chest and arms as she kept up her deep kiss.

            Evelyn slipped a hand between them and felt for him, finally finding him and taking him in her hand. He hadn’t even realized how hard he was from her kisses and her touch, and as soon as her fingers closed around him he moaned. She moved her hips and used her hand to guide him to her and took him into her in one slow, fluid motion. He groaned, his hands tightening where he held her waist, and for a moment his mind went blank except for the feeling of her around him.

            She took a breath and seemed to steady herself before she began rocking her hips, softly and slowly taking him in and out of her at a leisurely pace. He slid his hands from her waist to her hips to help lift her, letting her direct the rhythm but giving her more leverage as she thrust against him. He kept his eyes on the sight of her above him, on the way her eyelashes kept fluttering as she moved, obvious pleasure showing in the way her brow furrowed slightly as she took him deeper into her. The sight pushed out the image of the demon’s false imitation of her responding to Uldred’s touch, since it couldn’t come close to how heavenly the real thing was. Her breasts were bouncing lightly, and he groaned at the perfect sight they posed, reaching a hand up to palm one and caress her.

            She moaned his name and changed her rhythm, shifted the angle of her hips, and he was suddenly more aware of the tingling and throbbing increasing around him. The feeling further erased the lingering images from his night terror, and he finally forgot them entirely as he watched her rock herself through her release above him with soft whimpers and cries of his name pouring from her lips. The pulsating feeling of her orgasm made him lightheaded, and he bit his lip to keep himself from finishing with her. When he could tell she was done, he wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled over so that she lay beneath him. She was limp with spent pleasure, but she smiled at him as he took up a faster pace, and she lightly gasped as he moved within her. It wasn’t long before he finally pulled himself from her and released his seed, breathing heavily, his mind blank except for the knowledge of her, and how much he loved her.

            Later when they had regained their senses, she pulled him back with her to the pillows and encouraged his head down to her breasts. She held him close against her, stroking a hand through his hair as he listened to her heart beating beneath his ear.

            “Are you all right, love?” she finally whispered after several long, peaceful moments.

            “Much better,” he breathed.

            “Do you – do you want to talk about it?” she offered hesitantly.

            He pondered for a moment and nuzzled his cheek against the soft skin of her breast. He couldn’t decide if talking about it would help or not.

            “If you don’t want to I understand, I just thought maybe it would help,” she continued when he didn’t answer.

            “It was…I was back in the cage. Uldred was trying to – to get me to accept the demon,” his voice was barely audible, and he tried to keep it even. “But this time, the demon, it – it made itself look like you, and he…he was touching it, trying to get me to want it.”

            She tightened the arm she had around his shoulders, she held him tighter to her breast and pressed a fierce, protective kiss to the top of his head. “I was wondering what you meant by ‘not her.’”

            “Maker’s breath, was I talking out loud?” he asked, remembering the things he had been saying in his dream.

            “Talking’s one word for it,” she replied slowly.

            He felt his stomach lurch. “I was…screaming – wasn’t I?”

            “Yes,” she answered sadly.

            “Maker, Evelyn, I’m so sorry. They haven’t been that bad in a long time, I -”

            “Don’t apologize, Cullen,” she interrupted firmly. “This isn’t your fault. I’m just happy I was here to wake you up.”

            “Thank you, my love,” he raised his head to look up into her eyes. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile and leaned down to press a deep kiss to his lips. After several long moments he released her and resumed his cheek’s resting place on her soft breast. She continued stroking his hair and he felt himself gradually relaxing into a dreamless sleep.


	61. The Love of a Good Woman

            Evelyn eased herself out from Cullen’s arms, moving as slowly and carefully as she could so that she didn’t wake him up. For a moment she sat on the bed, staring down at his peaceful slumbering form. She was troubled by his night terrors, and had stayed awake after he had fallen asleep trying to figure out if there was something she could do for him. The way that his voice had been so full of fear, so full of despair as he’d screamed for the images to stop had torn apart her very soul. He’d been flailing, thrashing in the sheets, and she’d almost worried that she was going to have to use magic to restrain him when she struggled to quiet him. Luckily he had finally calmed at the sound of her voice and the soft touch of her hand on his cheek, aided by a brief flare of the soft energy that ran through her fingers.

            She sighed and rubbed her eyes, realizing she wanted to let him sleep longer, but knowing that would delay their departure from Redcliffe. Determining to make excuses and apologies to the Arl, she slid from the bed and dressed herself in silence.

            Strangely she didn’t care if anyone saw her slipping out of Cullen’s room, not checking the hallway for witnesses as she usually did. She was too busy trying to think of how she would explain his need for more rest without telling the Arl or anyone else about his night terrors or his withdrawal. Chewing a thumb as she thought, she slowly wandered down the halls of the Keep to try to find Teagen.

            “Lady Trevelyan,” she heard someone call from a side room.

            She stopped and took several steps back; she had passed Arl Teagen’s study, it seemed, and he stood from his desk to greet her.

            “My lord,” she greeted and walked into the room. He motioned for her to take a seat, and she did with a small smile.

            “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, you look deep in thought,” he apologized as he took his seat again. “Is anything the matter? Still musing over yesterday?”

            “No, no, I actually think yesterday went quite well,” she assured him. “I was looking for you, actually, I fear -”

            She hesitated and tried to think quickly, tried to determine how best she could explain without giving too much away.

            “How is your Commander, this morning?” he interrupted her musings, giving her a curious look.

            “He’s -” she frowned at him, confused. “He’s in need of a bit more rest, actually. I hate to ask, my lord, but if you wouldn’t mind, I think we need to leave this afternoon instead of this morning.”

            “Of course, it’s no trouble,” he waved away her frown. “Stay as long as you need.”

            “Thank you,” she said. But she couldn’t resist. “How did you -”

            “Stone walls echo more than you would think, even through a Keep as large as this one,” the Arl supplied. “I fear his…troubles…were not easily disguised by the walls.”

            Evelyn’s heart raced. “I see,” she murmured.

            “Might I ask…he's Ferelden, is he not?” the Arl tented his fingers before him, his elbows propped on the desk as he regarded her. She gave an affirmative nod. “You know, I thought I recognized the name. He was at Kinloch Hold during the Blight, if I'm not mistaken?”

            Evelyn nodded again. “Where did you hear his name?”

            “It may surprise you to know I’m the King’s uncle. Well, sort of his uncle,” he shrugged lightly, chuckling a little at something only he knew or remembered. “Which means I’m also well acquainted with his wife the Queen, the Hero of Ferelden. I’ve heard all of their stories from the Fifth Blight.”

            Evelyn suddenly remembered what Cullen had told her – the Hero of Ferelden had saved him from the magical cage he was trapped in. “They told you about Cullen?”

            “Yes,” he sighed. “You see, they were helping Redcliffe when they went to the Circle. They were trying to seek aid for my nephew, Connor. I understand that they were delayed in their return here because when they arrived, they found the Circle in chaos.”

            Evelyn leaned forward in her chair, resting her hands on her knees as she waited anxiously for him to tell her.

            “When they returned to Redcliffe with the mages needed to help Connor, they told me what had caused their delay,” Teagen continued. “And they told me about the young Templar they had found, trapped in a magical cage, showing clear signs of torture and abuse. He was the only Templar who had survived the chaos, the only one who survived who wasn’t able to escape with the Knight-Commander before the Tower was sealed.”

            Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to hide the emotions she was feeling. “They told you how they found him?”

            “Yes, it was a very upsetting thing, from what I could tell,” Teagen sighed. “Poor Brigid and Alistair were quite shaken up by it. Said the poor soul was half-crazed and terrified, clearly beyond traumatized, injured and ranting about demons.”

            Evelyn pressed a knuckle to her lips, trying to quell the sadness rising up in her. “He’s…yes, it was a hard thing for him to endure,” she replied softly.

            “He seems much improved, apart from the nightmares, from what I observed yesterday,” the Arl mused. “Then again the love of a good woman always helps ease troubles like that.”

            “I -” Evelyn froze, staring wide-eyed at the Arl.

            “There’s no use denying it, my lady,” the Arl smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye. “As I said, I’m the ‘uncle’ of the King, and I saw him and Brigid together during the Fifth Blight. The way Cullen looks at you reminds me a great deal of the way Alistair used to follow Brigid around like a lovesick young man – which, well, I guess he was. And honestly he still does.”

            Evelyn gave a small, hesitant smile. She’d heard the tales, the great romantic poems about the love between the two Wardens. Alistair and Brigid, great heroes of the Fifth Blight, lovers and eventual rulers of Ferelden – the people still loved to talk about the way the King always stared so lovingly at his Queen.

            “You don’t need to worry about me doing anything with this information, by the way,” the Arl gave a soft chuckle. “I know your Inquisition and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I hope you realize I’m not one for political mudslinging or blackmail. I was just making observations. Love always seems to find its way, even the darkest of times.”

            “I…thank you for your discretion, my lord,” she murmured. “Might I ask, since you are well acquainted with the Queen – have you heard from her? We tried to contact her, we needed her help with the Wardens in Orlais, but we haven’t been able to find her.”

            “Unfortunately we’re unaware of her whereabouts, at present,” Teagen rubbed his forehead as if it pained him. “Poor Alistair is a wreck with worry, but please don’t tell anyone I said that. He’d never let me hear the end of it. He’d say I’m ‘ruining his fearsome reputation’ or something like that, I’m sure.”

            Evelyn chuckled softly. “My lips are sealed.”

 

* * *

 

             It was after midday when they finally departed Redcliffe Keep. Evelyn had jealously guarded Cullen’s sleep for a few more hours until he’d finally awoken and insisted that they continue on their way.

            Evelyn could tell he was still disturbed, though he tried to hide it. She wondered if it was the details of the nightmare or the fact that they had so suddenly returned in such vividness and intensity. It was finally her turn to take his mind off of his troubles, and she spent the time on their journey talking, telling him stories from her childhood. She didn’t tell him stories about the Circle, not wanting to make him remember Kinloch, and so she told him about Bron and her family’s estate. Somehow now that he knew her grief about her mother and not going home, it was easier for her to talk about with him.

            “What of your father, Evelyn?” he finally asked after one of her stories. “I know from Josephine that the Inquisition has contacted him, but have you not spoken to him?”

            Evelyn bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I don’t know what I could say,” she answered honestly.

            “I’m certain it wouldn’t matter _what_ so much,” he mused. “You’re all you both have left, now. Anything would have to be better than nothing.”

            “Maybe…maybe you’re right,” she sighed. “I’ll consider your advice, darling.”

            They took supper in their tent together that night, and Evelyn noticed him frowning when they had finished eating and were lounging as they talked.

            “Is it your head, love? Let me help you,” she suggested. She climbed into his lap where he sat on the ground before her and rubbed her fingers together. Even after all of their intimacy, she still waited for him to consent to her magic, not wanting to frighten or hurt him – especially not after the previous night. He gave her a jerky nod and she began massaging his temples with her magic, alternating cold and energy to try to ease his pains.

            Cullen sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply as he let the relief sweep through him. She smiled softly to herself as she realized she saw his frown disappearing and his cheek muscles unclenching. After what must have been half an hour spent tending his head, she noticed that his hands were slowly stroking up her back, caressing her as she helped him. She felt goose bumps spring up on her skin, and she had to focus harder on keeping her magic steady.

            “Love,” he whispered and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. “Love, you do too much for me.”

            “I feel like I don’t do enough,” she murmured against his lips.

            He opened his eyes finally and gave her a crooked smile, a now familiar twinkle gleaming in his amber gaze. He slowly began to undo the buttons on her top and slid his hot mouth down her neck as he did. She released his temples and ran her fingers through his hair.

            “Evelyn, can you -” he hesitated and looked up at her, almost sheepishly.

            “What is it?” she softly prompted him.

            “Do you think you can…keep going? While I - while we -” he paused again, and he blushed a small amount.

            “Oh,” she raised her eyebrows, considering. “I can try, darling, just be sure to tell me if I begin to hurt you.”

            He continued to pull her clothes off of her before he worked on his own, and once he had them both naked he settled her back into his lap to face him. He kissed her deeply, eagerly seeking her tongue with his own while she took a moment to turn inward and focus on the magic in her veins. She replaced her fingers on his temple and began massaging him gently once more, trying not to get too distracted by the fingers he was sliding along the slit between her legs.

            He groaned when he felt how wet she was, and he quickly pulled her hips closer and positioned himself at her entrance to slide inside of her. They moaned together as he pulled her down on him, Evelyn taking a moment to steady herself and not flare her magic in response to the feeling. He kissed her again, gripping her hips firmly and guiding her in a quick pace with his strong hands. She focused on her fingers on his temples, allowing him to direct the movements of her taking him in and out of her, and soon she noticed an almost desperate eagerness in the way he was kissing every inch of her that he could reach.

            Her mind was divided, half paying attention to be careful not to hurt him, half consumed with the feelings of pleasure that were spreading throughout her body. He seemed to be struggling to keep himself quiet, biting his lip hard as he continued lifting her with his powerful arms.

            “Evelyn – love, I can’t -” he moaned against her collar bone. “Are you – are you close?”

            She hesitated a moment, biting her lip. “It’s fine – let yourself go, Cullen.”

            He wrapped an arm around her hips and flipped her onto her back, leaning close over her so that she could keep up her attention on his temples. He thrust into her hard and fast, going as deep as he could before he suddenly pulled himself from her with what almost sounded like a growl, and his whole body shuddered as he found his release on her skin. He took a moment to recover and she finally lowered her hands from his temples, and then suddenly he knelt back and buried his face between her legs.

            Evelyn cried out, surprised, but her shock disappeared as she felt herself pushed to the edge by the eager lapping of his tongue against her sensitive pearl. It wasn’t long before she bit her lip as her back arched and her body quaked as her own powerful release overcame her. He kept his tongue moving against her to prolong her release until she cried out his name and had to beg him for mercy.

            Cullen finally sat back and wiped his chin before he grinned down at her. “That was…Maker, I can’t describe what that was like.”

            She giggled. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you,” she murmured, still breathless.

            “I hope that wasn’t – you enjoyed yourself, didn’t you love?” he stretched out over her, propping himself on an elbow so he could look down into her face.

            “A great deal,” she answered, giving more breathless giggles. “I didn’t know that was something you wanted me to do.”

            “I – I told you before that you tingle,” he began hesitantly, again almost sheepish. “And you do…all over.”

            She furrowed her brow at him but waited for him to explain.

            “Evelyn, I – I can’t put into words what it feels like to be inside you,” Cullen whispered, lowering his lips and brushing hers with them gently. “But I think I’ve seen the face of the Maker.”

            She burst into renewed giggles, and soon he joined her with his own deep chuckles.


	62. A Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admittedly got distracted by the other fic I've been writing and finally caught up to how far ahead I had written in this one. I also accidentally spent too long on this trip - a couple of these last few chapters just sort of happened, and I had to find a way to write myself back to Skyhold to continue to where it needs to be.
> 
> If you feel like checking out my other fic, Hero Worship, I always appreciate kudos and comments. It's completely different from this one, far smuttier - but I'd say it's a fun read if that's your thing.
> 
> I truly appreciate all of my readers, your kind words and kudos and the fact that I know you're reading and enjoying this just brightens my days. More is on the way, just be patient as I try to get this back on track with story, canon, and the track to the eventual happy ending that's on its way in the (distant) future for these two.
> 
> In the meantime enjoy a little, slightly fluffy chapter, courtesy of my love of my Fem!Hawke/Fenris pairing here.
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Upon their return to Skyhold, Evelyn took turns seeking out her friends and advisors to catch up on what she had missed, what she needed to know, and ask for advice.

            She approached Solas to ask him questions about the Fade, about spirits, demons, and how non-mages dreamt. She found herself slightly concerned that Cullen could somehow still be approached by the demon from Kinloch Hold in his nightmares, but Solas assured her that was almost entirely unlikely.

            “Such an event would be _almost_ unique,” he assured her. “I do not believe he is at risk of possession or succumbing to any other danger from his dreams. They are nightmares, horrible memories, and while unfortunate, I do not believe they are cause for too much concern beyond how much sleep they may cost him.”

            Evelyn nodded her gratitude, chewing a finger as she thought.

            “I realize I have never asked you,” the apostate cut in suddenly, thoughtfully. “What is the Fade like for you when you dream? Are you approached by demons?”

            She shrugged lightly and shook her head. “Once or twice, but it’s happened so rarely,” she answered. “There’s usually a…benevolent presence, when I dream. I feel it watching me, I feel it as though it’s curious about me. But it has never approached me, and neither have any demons in a very, very long time. My dreams take me where they may, and I find little to disturb me. I had nightmares, after Adamant, but those have faded as well with time.”

            The apostate nodded slowly, staring at her as if considering something carefully.

 

            Evelyn hurried through the library to check in with Leliana, and Dorian reached out an arm to stop her and spun her to face him. He stared at her for a moment, his lips pursed as he looked her over.

            “Little bird,” he mused slowly, playfully, “you’ve been fucked, haven’t you?”

            She felt her cheeks flush and she motioned for him to lower his voice as he started laughing. “Keep it quiet, Dorian, _Maker_ you’re hopeless.”

            “Glad you both finally stopped being such fools,” he chuckled. “So was it amazing? He may be pious but the man certainly looks like he knows how to properly f -”

            “Shhhhh!” she hissed at him. “I’m not giving you details. You’ll just be crass about it.”

            “You’re no fun,” he sighed. “Still though, happy it finally happened.”

            She shook her head, exasperated, and left the library to continue on her way, leaving her friend behind her, laughing at her departure.

            Evelyn was passing back in to the Main Hall when Varric stopped her.

            “Hey Sparkles! I got a letter from Hawke, you should see it,” he greeted her, and handed over a letter. “She wanted to say hello, but you should read her update, considering.”

 

            _Varric,_

_Fen and I made it back safe, in no time at all. We didn’t even run into any bandits, which was almost disappointing. After my little adventure to see you and help the Inquisition, though, Fen seems determined that we just enjoy the domestic for a while and stay here out of trouble. Surprisingly I’m not too bothered by that idea; I could use a break. My feet are killing me these days._

_He’s taught himself to cook, and Maker everything he makes is delicious. You’d love it, he even tried his hand at that roast they used to serve at the Hanged Man, and it was so close I thought I was back in Kirkwall. But he cooks so much and it’s all so tasty, I’m positively fat as a druffalo now – and he just keeps on feeding me. It’s his new favorite hobby, cooking and watching me eat seconds and thirds of everything he’s made. I hate it – but also I don’t. I never thought the man could be so amazing in the kitchen. We went to a healer to determine how far along I am, and she said I’m having twins. I had to ask her if she was just feeling my overstuffed stomach because he’s been feeding me so much – but no, she’s positive that there are two babies inside of me. No wonder I’m so fat and ravenous._

_Can you imagine? Two little troublemakers, two little versions of he and I; Thedas isn’t prepared for that madness, I don’t think. I’m getting positively maternal, you should see the nursery I’m setting up. I’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of little half-elves with green eyes running around the house. I think after these two we may have a few more. The idea makes me so happy I can’t stand it. Honestly I’m not sure you’d recognize me right now, but damn it, Varric – I’m so fucking happy I can hardly stand it._

_I didn’t think it was possible, but Fen loves me being pregnant more than I do. It’s such a change, I’ve never seen him more blissful, more content. He’s about to have a family, something he chose, something he worked for and can protect and provide for. He can’t get enough of it. I can’t go five minutes without him coming over to touch my belly, or rest his ear against it to listen to it. Sometimes he talks to it, sometimes in Tevene, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. The babies positively love it when he touches me, they squirm and kick around like mad – they don’t do that any other time, really, just for him, just when he comes over and touches me. He positively beams when it happens – you may have to come up with a new nickname for him because he’s certainly not Broody anymore._

_I hope Evelyn is still doing all right. I told Curly to look out for her, and I hope he took me seriously. She’s such a sweet girl, and I hate to think about how much depends on her. Tell her I say hello, and that when all of this is over she needs to come visit. I want to show her the two babies she helped save in the Fade and treat her to some relaxation. I suppose she could even bring Curly if she wanted._

_Anyway, Fen is busy making what smells like roast potatoes and if I don’t have some soon I may set something on fire. It smells positively sinful and I’m famished – then again I’m always famished these days._

_Marian_

            Evelyn found herself overcome with emotion and skimmed the letter one more time. “She’s having twins?” she finally asked softly and looked up at Varric.

            “Yep,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe Broody has been cooking, though – that’s a sight to see, I bet. Anyway, thought you should know – open invitation to their place, when all of this is over.”

            Evelyn smiled. “I can’t wait.”

            “Inquisitor,” a smooth voice interrupted. Evelyn turned to see Morrigan standing behind her. “If I may have a moment of your time, now that you are back.”

            “Of course,” Evelyn agreed, frowning slightly. The other woman motioned with her hand for Evelyn to follow, and she did after only a moment’s hesitation. She wondered what she wanted, why she had sought her out.


	63. The Past is the Past

            Cullen was trying to focus on what Morrigan and Evelyn were explaining about Corypheus, but he was exhausted and his head was aching horribly. Ever since Redcliffe Keep he hadn’t wanted to sleep, and after reading the reports about Samson and the Red Templars his head had begun throbbing painfully. He could tell Evelyn was glancing his way; she knew, he could see it in the frown on her face.

            His attention was divided, and he only half-heard them planning to send her to Emprise du Lion, to follow up on the leads they’d collected on the Red Templars. He felt his mood blacken further as he thought about her going without him; from what he could tell in the reports, there was a heavy presence of Corypheus’ forces in the area. It made him nervous, and he listened to Morrigan speaking as he weighed the possibility of going with her, leading their forces personally to help her.

            “Cullen?” a soft voice interrupted his musings.

            He looked up to see the other advisors leaving the room; the war council was apparently over. But Evelyn was standing near him, peering up into his face with concern.

            “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching a hand up to his cheek and stroking his scar with her thumb.

            “I’m anxious for you, the reports coming out of Emprise du Lion…” he trailed off and shook his head, staring pensively at the map.

            “I’ll be fine. You’re sending most of our forces with me, and Rylen is a very capable leader,” she assured him.

            “What if I went with you -” he began, but she shook her head.

            “No, I need you here, I need you coordinating our other forces,” she sighed. “As much as I wish you could come... Please, darling, I’ll be fine.”

            He continued to stare at the map, wanting to argue but knowing she was right. They had too many operations going on right now for him to leave Skyhold for several weeks. Sending her was already going to make things more difficult, but she needed to go.

            She reached up to his mantle and pulled his face down to hers. “You’ve got that ‘I need to protect her’ look on your face, love,” she murmured, and pressed a few quick kisses to his lips.

            He grinned, he couldn’t help it. She was trying to reassure him, and he loved it when she was playful, when she tried to make him smile. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her so that her feet dangled against his armored legs. “Isn’t that just my normal look by now?” he mused, and he kissed her deeply.

            “Oh!” a sudden cry sounded behind them and Cullen turned his face to see Josephine trying to shield her eyes. “I’m sorry, I forgot my notes.”

            Cullen sighed and set Evelyn back on her feet. Now that they were back at Skyhold, he knew that they would return to their bad luck of constant interruptions.

            “Sorry Josie,” Evelyn giggled.

            “No, no, it’s fine – at least this time -” but the Ambassador cleared her throat and hurried to the war table to grab her papers. “I’ll just be going now.”

            Evelyn looked at Cullen and smirked, but motioned for him to follow her from the room. “I need to pack, if I’m leaving tomorrow. Does the Commander have some time, or should I find you later?” she asked as they fell into step with one another.

            He hesitated. “Later, unfortunately. I need to meet with Rylen.”

            “Of course,” she smiled softly at him and crooked a finger. He obliged and bent down, and she pressed a kiss to his scar. “Later, then.”

 

* * *

 

             “ _Maker_ – Cullen I can’t, please, mercy, mercy,” Evelyn panted, and then moaned loudly as he slid another finger into her.

            “You’ll be gone for weeks, love,” he murmured, greedily watching the way she jerked in response to his hot breath against her oversensitive nub. “I’m just trying to make up for all the nights we’ll be apart.” He slowly slid his tongue along her pearl, intently watching her face as she cried out his name.

            “I’m going to – mmm, I’m going to pas – _ohhh_ don’t stop,” she begged urgently, forgetting her protests. Her back arched and he felt her clenching and throbbing around the fingers he had inside of her as she nearly screamed in response to her release.

            When he’d carried her through it until her body was shuddering and she went limp with exhaustion, he finally sat up and removed his fingers from her. He repositioned her hips and took his place between them as he slid himself into her with one slow stroke. She gasped and her hands came up suddenly to grasp his arms, her nails digging into his flexing muscles.

            “ _Mmmm_ , yes,” she sighed, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. She gave him a breathless smile and wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer, to make him stay deep within her. It was all the encouragement he needed, and he began thrusting into her, picking up his pace when he heard her start to whimper in response to his movements within her.

            “Think you’ve got one more left in you, dearest?” he murmured as he bent over her to tug her bottom lip between his teeth.

            “Yes, Cullen –” she trailed off in a deep moan, and she began to respond more eagerly to his thrusts.

            He hoped it was soon, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. He had spent so long teasing her, so long kissing every inch of her until he’d settled between her legs. He’d worked at her with his tongue until she’d come three times, each time becoming progressively louder with her cries and the way she begged him. After dreaming of doing these things to her for months, he found himself overly excited every time he got to act on his dreams, and had to fight the urge to lose himself too soon.

            He pulled her legs over his shoulders and braced himself, trying to go deeper. She cried out incoherent words in response and finally reached a hand down to her slit. She lightly brushed her swollen pearl with a fingertip and he bit his lip as he felt it, as he watched the sublime sight of her falling apart, touching herself while he thrust into her. He hastily pulled from her and released himself with a groan, panting heavily when he was done and trying to clear his head. The ache in his skull seemed to be gone, now. He was beginning to wonder if the intensity of her orgasms somehow flared her energy and helped him. Or perhaps he was sating himself with the proximity to the magic in her veins, brought to the surface by her arousal. Whatever the cause, it was a welcome relief.

            “Oh, love, you’re making it even harder to leave you now,” she giggled, her voice shaky and weak. “It was hard enough before we kissed, and then it was harder after we finally kissed, but now…Maker, I’m going to miss you.”

            He chuckled and tenderly cleaned off her tight belly. “I just want to be certain I give you enough reason to come back.”

            She furrowed her brow at him. “I’ll always come back to you.”

            “I know,” he leaned over and kissed her, then rolled onto his back and pulled her with him to nestle against his shoulder.

            “How did you get so good at that?” she teased. “You always seemed so…hmm, Dorian would say pious, but I think I’d go with awkward and shy.”

            Cullen laughed. “I was just nervous around you, like a lovesick youth. I wanted you so much, but didn’t think I could have you.”

            “It was adorable,” she murmured. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

            “Was it a serious one?” he tried to peer down into her face, raising an eyebrow.

            “Were you in love before? Did you leave behind someone special in Kirkwall, or Ferelden?” she asked softly.

            “Do you really want to know all of that?” he sighed. It didn’t feel like enjoyable pillow talk, discussing his past lovers.

            “I’m just curious. You’re so much older than me, I’m not so naïve as to think I was the first person you’ve cared for,” she gave a little shrug and finally raised her gaze to his. “I’m not jealous, I was just wondering.”

            He mulled it over for a moment, trying to think how best he could answer. “There was never really anyone special to me, certainly not like you,” he answered slowly. “I was actually infatuated with a young mage at Kinloch, when I was newly a Templar.”

            She giggled. “You were? Did you ever act on it?”

            “No, I still followed all the rules, then,” he said.

            “What happened to her?”

            “She…died. In the chaos, when -”

            “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, I -”

            “No, it’s fine, love, don’t worry about it,” he assured her, and realized he meant it. For the moment, he wasn’t struggling with his memories.

            “So what about Kirkwall? Anyone special there? You were there for over ten years,” she was trying to change the subject, he could tell.

            “I…I’m ashamed to admit about Kirkwall,” he sighed.

            “Why?”

            “I, uh – see, I hadn’t, ever, before I arrived at Kirkwall,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “I took my duties seriously, I thought that if I ever did, it should be in the confines of marriage, if I ever did. But after – after Calenhad -”

            She shifted a little on his shoulder so she could gaze up at him more easily. Her eyes had that intense look, when she was focusing on listening intently. She waited patiently for him to answer.

            “I was a wreck, looking for any sort of release I could find,” he finally continued, his voice quiet. “I was angry at the way the demon had tried to tempt me with it, how it knew I had denied myself, how it tried to get me to cave. So I acted upon it in Kirkwall, so that it wouldn’t be some forbidden fruit any longer. But I, uh, I didn’t have anyone special, I – there was a brothel, in town.”

            He saw her eyebrows raise a little, and for a moment she looked surprised. But the look quickly disappeared and she gave him a soft smile. “It’s understandable. You’d been through a lot, you -”

            He started laughing. “Maker, Evelyn, you’re too good to me,” he declared when he saw the surprise in her eyes as she watched him laugh. “I’m horribly ashamed of myself that I spent more time in that brothel than I ever should have, and you respond with ‘it’s understandable.’”

            She giggled a little. “There’s no use in me being upset about it, it’s in the past,” she replied. “If you were still visiting one now, well, that would be -”

            “Never.”

            “Good, then,” she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “So just the brothel, or?”

            “No, eventually I had a few casual lovers, in the Templars or the City Guard. While I was Knight-Commander, there was one guard, Brennan, I took up with for a while. We were both stressed, trying to put everything back together, and it just sort of happened.”

            “But you never loved any of them?”

            “I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he confessed.

            “At least on that we’re even,” she giggled. “I was nervous that I was so inexperienced, I wasn’t sure what you would think of me.”

            “I…wouldn’t have cared either way, if you were or you weren’t,” he shrugged. “I’ll admit I like the idea that I was your first more than I probably should, but it wouldn’t have changed anything for me if I hadn’t been.”

            “And I wasn’t disappointing?” she asked meekly.

            He gave a loud bark of laughter and stared down at her, incredulous. “Love, I’ve never experienced what I feel with you.” He rolled over so that he was on top of her again, and began kissing her. “You could never have been disappointing – you’ll never be disappointing.”

            She smiled against his lips as he kissed her. “Cullen, it’s late, I’m leaving at dawn -” she tried to protest, but he ran his hands along her thighs and she moaned and spread her legs for him with a quiet moan of, “oh, _yes_ , love.”

            He’d never get enough of her.


	64. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting back to some angst after all the fluff between this fic and my other - have to satisfy my mean side somehow.
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Evelyn tugged on her saddle to make sure it was secure and turned to face Cullen once she was certain it was. “I’ll write as soon as I arrive. Or before that, if I can.”

            “Thank you, Evelyn,” he murmured. “Please, be safe. If you need help, if you need aid, please -”

            “I know, darling. Don’t worry so much, I’ll have most of our forces with me. It will be all right,” she reached up and caressed his cheek, stroking his scar like she always did. She loved that scar, she loved the way it tugged up when he grinned at her like that. She loved how he’d gotten it, she loved how he hadn’t let Hawke heal it, which he’d admitted to her one night when she traced it like always. She took in the sight of his face, sudden apprehension making her stomach tie in knots. “I love you,” she murmured.

            “I love you,” he answered, and he leaned down and gave her a tender kiss. There was a time they wouldn’t have been so bold, but the relationship between the Commander and the Inquisitor was now the worst kept secret within the Inquisition. She was traveling with Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Dorian, all of whom knew, and Evelyn found she didn’t care if anyone saw. She needed one last kiss before she left him.

            He finally raised his face and stared down at her, and she could tell he was trying to put on a brave face for her, that he was still worried. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

            “Always.”

* * *

           

            Waiting to hear from her was nerve-wracking. He buried himself in work to pass the time, even working through the night when sleep eluded him. He wrote her letters, instead of the reports he usually stuck to. He sent them to the forward camp they’d established, so that they would be waiting for her when she arrived. When she had left Skyhold before, he hadn’t written except to tell her about the Inquisition and what business she needed to know. And every time he’d doubted, he’d lost himself in anxiety and fear and questioned everything. This time would be different, this time he wouldn’t let himself withdraw. She was his light, and he refused to let it dwindle because of distance.

            Josephine called a war council suddenly one day, and Cullen found himself worried. What had happened that needed to be discussed? His mind positively raced, worrying about her and what may have happened.

            “We’ve received a letter from Bann Trevelyan,” the Ambassador greeted him as soon as he entered the war room.

            “Eve – the Inquisitor’s father?” he asked, frowning.

            “Yes,” Josephine nodded. “He would…like to come to Skyhold.”

            The Ambassador shrugged and handed the letter over to Cullen to read.

            Cullen glanced over the letter, frowning as he read it. The Ambassador was right; Bann Trevelyan wanted to visit the Inquisition. It sounded like he was requesting official business, like he wanted to see how his forces could assist. But Cullen could tell, reading through the lines, determining their implied meaning – that he wanted to come see his daughter. Cullen couldn’t fight the small grin that tugged at his lips.

            “Commander, you know her best,” Josephine began hesitantly. “When I asked about their relationship, she was – admittedly less than forthcoming.”

            Cullen only took one moment to think about it. “Tell him he is more than welcome,” he answered, and looked up to meet the eyes of the other two women. “If she is angry, let it be with me. I’ll let her know it was my decision, in case it’s not what she wants. But I think we should invite the Bann here, don’t you?”

            Josephine’s face broke into a small smile, and Leliana nodded enthusiastically.

 

* * *

 

 

            It was nearly two weeks before he heard from her.

 

_Cullen,_

_I hope you haven’t worried horribly over me, love. Our journey took a little longer than expected, delayed by the amount of forces we are traveling with, but we had a few rifts and Red Templars along the way as well. Everything is fine, just took longer than we thought._

_I’ve reached the forward camp, and we’re about to press into the Lion. We need to take it back, Corypheus’ forces have an incredibly strong presence here. I’m going to try to make my way to a quarry near here – I think I may have found a part of Samson’s supply chain but I need to get in there to determine if I’m correct._

_You should be very proud of Rylen, he’s a wonderful leader. I can see your influence in the way he leads the forces – you’ve done an excellent job._

_Thank you for the letters, it was a pleasant surprise when I arrived here. I’m thinking of you daily as well, love, and I can’t wait until I’m back at Skyhold in your arms at last. I’ve thought about that last night before I left several times – and a few of the others as well. I’ll be home as soon as I can be – home, safe and sound in your arms._

_Evelyn_

 

            He smiled to himself a little, content that he had heard from her, but hating the sound of the situation in the area. He longed to be there to help her, yet he knew she was right – and so he buried himself into his reports and worked to coordinate their forces from afar.

            It was five more days before he received a report, but it was from Rylen and not Evelyn.

 

_Commander,_

_We’ve managed to take a keep here in the area, and I’ve stationed forces there to hold it. It was quite the blow to the Templars and Corypheus’ forces, and will help us cement our foothold here._

_I…hate to be the one to tell you this, ~~since I know~~_

_The Inquisitor has been injured._

_She’s all right, she’s resting, and luckily we brought healers who can assist her so that she’s back up on her feet soon. She asked me to write to you though. She said you would worry if you hadn’t heard from her in a few days._

_I promise you, Commander, it’s not life-threatening. She’ll be all right. She just needs rest and more poultices, but in the meantime the rest of our forces in the area will continue our push. She is resting in the keep, surrounded by our forces. She is safe._

_I will send another report as soon as I can._

_Knight-Captain Rylen_

 

            Cullen’s hands shook, his vision blurred. _The Inquisitor has been injured._ He hastily reread the letter, but it only made his stomach churn faster.

            _The Inquisitor has been injured._

            His head was pounding, his fingers aching.

            _The Inquisitor has been injured._

            He should have gone with her. He couldn’t help feeling as though if he’d been there, he could have protected her.

            _It’s not life-threatening._

            Yet she was having to stay at a keep, tended to by healers.

            _I hate to be the one to tell you this._

            It was bad. It had to be. Rylen wouldn’t have written it like that if it wasn’t.

            Cullen’s head swam, he couldn’t think straight. He was shaking.

            He was helpless.

            _Maker, help me,_ he buried his face in his hands. _Bring her back to me. Keep her safe._

            What else could he do but pray? What else could help her? He was too far away to help, he was too far away to save her. She already had so many of their forces with her, she had healers with her.

            Maker, he had never been more useless, more helpless.

            He clasped his hands and pressed his forehead against them, praying his usual prayer fervently.

            _The Inquisitor is injured._

_Maker, send her back to me. Keep her safe. Let me be her strength, let me be her shelter._

_It’s not life-threatening._

_Keep her safe. Deliver her back into my arms._

_Please, Maker, bring her back to me._


	65. A Test

            Evelyn groaned and rolled over, retching into the pot being held for her by one of the healers.

            “I need another poultice, now -” she heard one of the healers say urgently.

            Someone was wiping her brow, someone was trying to get the bandages off of her side.

            “Shit.”

            “Quickly, the poultice!”

            “Wait, we need to stop the bleeding first -”

            “How is it bleeding so much again?”

            “Shit!”

            Something tugged at the pain in her side, and her vision went white with pain as she screamed.

 

* * *

 

            Someone was wiping her brow, someone was tilting her head up.

            “Drink this, please, Inquisitor,” a soft voice begged as she felt something pressed to her lips.

            “Cullen – need to write to Cullen -”

            “Captain Rylen wrote to him, it’s all right, drink this -”

            “Tell him -”

            She sipped at the potion being tilted against her lips.

            Blackness enveloped her.

 

* * *

  

            “It’s still festering.”

            “Maybe it’s not infec -”

            “Shit, _shit_ we should have seen it sooner.”

            “We didn’t know, none of the reports said anything about -”

            “No one else has shown the same signs.”

            “Well she was trying to take on the big one.”

            “Warn the men. And bring some hot water and the herbs, we need to make a poultice to suck whatever it is out of her.”

            “You don’t think it’s poison?”

            “With Red Templars, it could be anything.”

            “It could be -”

            “I know.”

            She felt the bandages being tugged off of her, someone’s warm hands on her skin. They touched the wound and she screamed, overcome with unbearable pain.

            She retched over the side of the bed.

            Blackness enveloped her.

 

* * *

 

             Evelyn’s eyelashes fluttered, she tried to blink rapidly to open her eyes, but there was light right in front of her.

            “Inquisitor?”

            “Wha – where am I?” she murmured, and the light in front of her eyes was pulled away.

            “You’re safe, you’re still at the keep we took back. Do you remember?”

            She let her eyes adjust to the soft candlelight in the room and looked around. Captain Rylen was setting the candle he was holding on the side table, and she saw a few healers behind him washing their hands in a basin.

            “Yes, I remember,” she answered finally. “How long -”

            “A – a week, Inquisitor,” Rylen responded haltingly.

            “A week?” Evelyn frowned. She couldn’t remember anything but darkness, and occasionally pain.

            “How are you feeling?”

            “Not…terrible,” she tried to pull herself up in the bed.

            “Inquisitor, please, don’t move,” Rylen gently put his hands on her shoulders and tried to push her back onto the pillows.

            “What happened?”

            “You were gravely injured -”

            “I remember getting hit, my side,” she lifted the sheets and looked down at her side. It was tightly bandaged, but the cloth was white, it looked fresh.

            “Yes, you lost a lot of blood on the field before we could get you to safety. You passed out,” Rylen continued. “But after that, the injury – you were hit by what seems to have been a poison.”

            Evelyn stared up at him, confused.

            “It wouldn’t let the wound heal,” he finished.

            “I was poisoned?”

            “It seems to have been a new poison, it took the healers a long time to figure out what it was,” Rylen sighed. “We think it was something they’ve created – it was laced with red lyrium.:

            “Red lyrium?”

            “Yes,” he took the chair beside the bed. “So, how are you feeling? Any…any, um -”

            And suddenly she knew why Rylen was the one who was waking her up.

            He was a Templar.

            She had been poisoned by red lyrium.

            They were making sure she wasn’t dangerous.

            “I feel fine,” she murmured. “My side hurts, I feel weak. I’d like some water, if you don’t -”

            “Oh, of course,” he turned to one of the healers and they quickly passed him a cup of water.

            She took it gratefully and lifted her head so that she could sip it. The water slipped between her lips like perfect, cool relief. She felt her head clear a little.

            “Inquisitor, I hate to ask -” Rylen began.

            “Captain Rylen, I’m fine,” she interrupted.

            He looked at her for a moment, and flexed his fingers in anticipation, as if anxious. “May I?”

            She nodded; she knew what was coming. With a deep sigh she closed her eyes.

            She felt her magic silenced, suppressed. She couldn’t have spoken or done anything to defend herself or attack if she wanted to.

            And then the feeling was lifted and she opened her eyes to look back at Rylen.

            He gave a deep sigh of relief and smiled reassuringly. “I’m sorry, Inquisitor, I had to be sure.”

            She nodded, swallowing and trying to get over the feeling of her magic being suppressed. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and she felt her veins tingling sharply like daggers. “It’s fine, Knight-Captain.” She tried to give him a smile, but her lips were trembling. “Have you – did you write to Cullen?”

            “Yes, I’ve been sending him updates,” Rylen nodded and he stood. “Which reminds me, I should tell him you’re awake and that you’re – that you’re all right.”

            Evelyn watched the Captain depart, and felt her stomach churn as she thought about what he had told Cullen, of how worried he must be. She closed her eyes, only wanting to cry, wishing she could somehow teleport to Skyhold. She wanted to see him, she wanted to make sure he knew she was all right.

            She wanted him to comfort her.

            Instead, she fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

            “Commander, I have another -”

            “Give it here,” he growled, and snatched the report from the scout’s hands. He ripped the seal and unrolled it as quickly as his shaking hands would let him.

 

_Commander Cullen,_

_The Inquisitor is awake. The healers say her wound is finally healing. They were able to pull the poison from her, to end its festering, and get it to begin healing at last._

_She is still weak, still resting, but she is out of danger._

_I did as you asked._

_She is safe._

_When she is healed, we will escort her back to Skyhold._

_Knight-Captain Rylen_

            Cullen closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh of relief. He felt like he had been holding his breath for over a week, waiting on word.

            She was awake. But more importantly, she was safe.

            He felt a twinge of shame, thinking that he had had to ask Rylen to test her. He knew, when she came back, that he would tell her. He had to confess that Rylen did that on his orders. He hadn’t known which was worse; the idea that the _Inquisitor_ may have succumbed to red lyrium, or the idea that Evelyn, his sweet Evelyn, had been tainted or corrupted somehow. He couldn't tell if his fears about red lyrium or a demon was worse. He had been up every night since the first letter, and the letters after, when Rylen admitted she was worse than they had originally thought. That she was poisoned. That she was in a sleep they couldn't get her out of. That the Templar was concerned something could have gone wrong, that somehow the red lyrium would attract a demon to her.

            But she hadn't succumbed to either.

            He rubbed his forehead and sat at his desk, staring around the room unseeing.

            She was safe.


	66. An Order

_Cullen,_

_I’m all right, love._

_I’m on my way to recovery. The healers are changing my bandages twice daily with fresh poultices, trying to get the flesh to finally heal completely. It may leave a scar, they’re not sure yet. But I’ve been able to get out of bed, I’ve been able to walk around some and spend some time out on the battlements of this keep, so I can rest in the sunlight._

_Cassandra and Rylen have been leading our forces further into the quarry, what they’ve found is…disturbing. But I think we’re close, I think we’ll finally be able to find more about Samson. We can get him, love, I know we can. We’re close._

_I should be able to head back into the field by the end of the week, now that my wound won’t tear open with movements. I just need to regain my strength so that I can continue our work. Rylen suggested I return to Skyhold, but I need to get back out there and see the quarry and finish driving out the Red Templars. I’ll be fine in a few days. I’ll be able to continue our work. And then I’ll return to Skyhold, to you._

_Just like I promised._

_Darling, I know…I know that you had to ask Rylen to test me. You don’t have to worry, I’m not angry. I know you – I know that you have to be sitting around, feeling ashamed and guilty that you had to do that. Please, don’t._

_I understand._

_If I had been in your position, I would have done the same thing._

_Don’t let it keep you up at night. We’re getting close to Samson, and Corypheus, and I need you at full strength, love. The Inquisitor needs her Commander._

_Take care of yourself._

_I’ll be back when I’m finished here._

_Love, Always,_

_Evelyn_

 

            He shook his head and set her letter down on the desk, immediately reaching for fresh parchment and his quill. He called out for the scout to come back into his office as he quickly composed his letter, fighting the shaking in his hands as he wrote.

 

_Evelyn,_

_You are to report back to Skyhold as soon as you are capable of travel._

_You are not to stay in the Lion to continue exploring the quarry, or fighting the red Templars._

_You are to return immediately._

_This is an order from your Commander._

_Cullen_

 

 

            He rolled the parchment and sealed it hastily. “Send this to the Inquisitor immediately,” he told the scout as he handed it over. The scout nodded and hurried out the door to obey the order.

            He buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh, rubbing his temples before he dragged his fingers down his face in exasperated frustration.

            She could be so stubborn. She had nearly died, she had been poisoned. Rylen had described her wound as ‘being run through,’ that one side of her had almost been torn open. He had said that she had screamed every time they’d tended her, that she had vomited from the pain, that her magic had flared from the agony. That he’d had to suppress her magic to keep her from hurting them accidentally as they’d struggled to keep her alive.

            And yet she wanted to get back into the field, to continue on in the Lion as if she hadn’t nearly been taken from him. As if they hadn’t almost lost their Inquisitor, the hope of Thedas, the Herald of Andraste.

            No, he needed her back at Skyhold. Their forces could finish their mission in Emprise du Lion. She needed to be back at Skyhold, as soon as possible.

            She was too important. She was too precious.

            And not just to him, but to all of Thedas.

 

* * *

 

 

            The gates opened and the cry rang out that the Inquisitor was back. Cullen bounced slightly on his feet, anxiously waiting for her horse to ride through the gate. As soon as she guided it into the courtyard he walked forward, taking long, swift strides to meet her where she stopped her horse.

            Without waiting for her to even start to swing her leg off her saddle, he reached up and grabbed her, being careful not to lift her by her waist, and pulled her off of her mount. He cradled her against him and turned away from the horse to head into the keep without a word or a glance back at anyone else in the courtyard.

            He took the stairs two at a time and carried her quickly through the Main Hall to the door to her quarters, which he bent and pushed open so he could sidle through it. His grip on her was firm but gentle. He wasn’t sure if she still suffered any pain and he was trying to balance holding her tightly with not jarring her injury at all.

            Evelyn hadn’t said anything either. She hadn’t had a chance to even greet him before he had pulled her into his arms, and now she let him carry her without saying anything. But she had one hand gripping the fur of his mantle, and he felt the slightest grin tug the corner of his mouth.

            Cullen set her softly on her bed and began working at the fastenings of her armor.

            “Cul -”

            “I have to see, Evelyn,” he said firmly, and he methodically pulled each piece of armor off of her. For once he didn’t have amorous pursuits in mind; he had to make sure, had to see for himself that she was healing, that she was all right.

            When he’d pulled off her armor he saw that she was still bandaged, but the bandages were just holding a poultice against her skin. They were clean; there was no blood, no pus, nothing on them except the moist herbs.

            He tried to steady his hands to undo the knot that tied the bandages together, and she lifted her own fingers to help his clumsy, trembling ones get it undone. Once it was freed, he slowly unwound the bandages and threw them back on the floor until she was bared for him to observe.

            There was a long jagged scar down the right side of her stomach, as though something large had impaled her. It was too wide and long to have been a sword, too jagged to have been just steel. He gulped as he looked at it, and he sank to his knees before her as he ran his fingers along it to trace it. The wound was obviously still healing, and he could tell why the healers weren’t sure if the scar would be permanent, since it was still growing new, tight, pink skin around it. He assumed too the poultices were supposed to help prevent it scarring too terribly.

            But he didn’t care about whether or not she would have a scar.

            He cared about the image he couldn’t get out of his mind, of something large and jagged tearing through her.

            Of the blood Rylen had said she was covered in, that they could hardly staunch as they rushed her to safety.

            Of the way he had described the red poison blossoming through her veins around the wound, so that it looked like roads marked on a map as it spread and coursed through her blood.

            Of the way he’d said the wound kept reopening, no matter what they did to try to keep it closed.

            Of the way he’d said she kept screaming.

            Of the way she’d almost died.

            He kept running his fingers over the wound, and he suddenly removed his gloves before he swiftly returned his hands to her, intending to feel her skin with his. He was still staring at it, and she sat silently on the edge of the bed, her fingers grasping the mattress next to her hips, not touching him.

            Tears were welling in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, he couldn’t remember why. Even Kinloch hadn’t made him cry, during or after.

            But this…

            A single tear escaped down his cheek, and he finally raised his gaze to hers.

            Her lips were pressed tight, and he almost thought she looked scared. He watched her follow the descent of his tear and she blinked her own eyes rapidly.

            “Dearest,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Dearest, I’m so – I thought I’d – I thought I -”

            He shook his head, unable to say the words aloud.

            _I thought I’d lost you._

            She pressed her lips together and looked down. She was still gripping the side of the bed, not touching him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, why she was so guarded. He lifted his hands to her cheeks and cupped her face, raising her gaze to his.

            “Dearest, love, Evelyn – please say something,” he implored her.

            “Will you – will you still think I’m -” but she shook her head and lowered her eyes so that he couldn’t see the emotion in them.

            “ _You’re still alive_ ,” he whispered urgently, his voice catching on the emotion in his throat. “You came back to me. That’s all I care about. Love – dearest, I love you. I love you.”

            He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him, still kneeling in front of where she sat on the edge of the bed. She began to cry, he could feel her body shaking as she twisted her fingers into the fur of his mantle.

            “I was so scared,” he confessed quietly. “I felt so helpless.”

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

            He pressed his lips to her forehead, fiercely trying to reassure her with the pressure of his lips against her skin. She was back in his arms, she’d come back again.

            That was all that mattered.


	67. Tender

            Cullen stripped out of his armor, dropping it on the floor and not caring at all about any dings it might acquire from his haste. He got down to his breeches and wrapped his arms around Evelyn, pulling her back onto her bed so that they were reclining on the pillows. He just needed to hold her, to reassure himself that she was there. She was still crying softly, and he held her close against his chest, both arms wrapped around her.

            “How did this happen?” he asked after she had finally quieted.

            “A behemoth,” she answered weakly. “One of those Templars who are so twisted, monstrous with red lyrium…”

            He swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves as he pictured it.

            “I thought I could get it, I was trying to get my strike just right, the static cage I can do -” she shook her head against where it lay on his chest. “I didn’t realize how close I’d gotten, and it…it got me.”

            “And it was poisoned?”

            “Apparently. I don’t remember anything after it pierced me, except pain.”

            He squeezed her with his arms until he was certain he was probably suffocating her in his embrace. She rubbed her cheek against him, her soft breath tickling the hairs on his chest.

            “I’m sorry I had to have Rylen -”

            “I told you not to worry about it,” she interrupted. Her voice was firm, not just like she didn’t want him to apologize or worry, but like she didn’t want to talk about it.

            He frowned and thought for a moment. “Evelyn, can I ask you something?”

            “Mmhmm,” she hummed her answer, and he realized she sounded sleepy. Maybe now wasn’t the time, but he’d already started to bring it up. “You can ask,” she said after a moment when he didn’t speak.

            “I just – I’m curious, you never talk about spirits or demons, and I just realized I don’t know your experience with them. You’re a mage, and I realize I know little about…about how you interact with the Fade. Maybe I wouldn’t have worried so much if I did,” he quietly mused.

            He could feel her shift so that she could look up at him, and he glanced down at her. “I’ve had a few encounters,” she answered slowly. “They seem to leave me alone usually, though. And when I was faced with a demon before, it wasn’t hard to resist. There’s -”

            But she fell silent and frowned.

            “There’s what?”

            “When I’m in the Fade, sometimes, there’s a presence – it…watches me,” she was speaking slowly, so softly he almost couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t figure out her mood. “I think it’s a spirit, but I don’t know what kind. It’s never approached me, and it’s never made itself known. I can just – feel it.”

            He frowned, and his heart raced a little faster even though he didn’t want it to. He couldn’t help it; his own experiences made the idea of being watched in the Fade by a spirit less than pleasant. “But it’s never -”

            “No, never. It doesn’t feel malevolent, or like it wants anything. It just watches me,” she gave another little shrug.

            Cullen began stroking her hair as he thought. Something she said sounded familiar, and he tried to recall what memories it was tugging at. “Wynne,” he said suddenly.

            “When?” she furrowed her brow, misunderstanding his word. “Many times -”

            “No, no, there was a mage named Wynne, at Kinloch,” he corrected her. “She helped the Hero, she helped save the Circle, helped save – save me. But I’d heard her speak before about the Fade to some of the apprentices, when I was keeping watch.”

            She looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to explain the connection or why he was thinking about Wynne.

            “She was discussing spirits with them, and she said that she had felt a – a benevolent presence watching her in the Fade before, like it was curious.” He could picture the older woman leading the lesson, trying to get the young apprentices to pay attention. He’d stood in the back, fascinated by what she was talking about, so young and inexperienced as a Templar that he still found talk of the Fade intriguing. “Wynne was describing something similar.”

            “Did she ever find out what kind of spirit it was?” Evelyn murmured. She looked incredibly curious, her eyes wide and sparkling with the inquisitive wonder he loved so much. The lightning eyes he’d been scared he’d never see again…

            He mentally shook himself so he could answer her. “I don’t know, she left with the Hero after what happened. I never saw her again.”

            Evelyn sighed and frowned, thinking. “Between she and Solas, it makes me feel better at least. Solas seems to think it’s just a spirit who feels a kinship with me. I described it to him and he didn’t sound like it was anything to be concerned about.” She giggled a little suddenly. “He suggested I try to make friends with it. I’ve tried to speak with it before, but…it always seems to disappear or I wake up when I do.”

            Cullen fell silent. He was reassured by everything she said, but he still had to fight the urge to tell her not to befriend a spirit. The demon at Kinloch came to mind, and his heart continued to race. He fell into deep thought, musing over what she had said, musing over having her back in his arms alive and well, if a little worse for wear.

            After a long time, he realized that her breathing was heavy and she was asleep, and he lay stroking her hair, feeling his own eyes begin to droop. When was the last time he had slept? He couldn’t remember, and his mind stopped trying to find the answer as he slid into unconsciousness, finally at peace with her in his arms.

           

* * *

 

            Evelyn was sitting on the bench in her family’s estate, her favorite place in the garden, beneath the willow tree like always. She knew she was waiting for him, and she sat picking at the tall wildflowers that grew beside her, intending to press them or dry them. They were so beautiful, she wanted to keep them forever. She wanted to show him when he finally arrived.

            She felt like she was being watched, and for a moment thought nothing of it. But she straightened, realizing what it was. She turned to look behind her. “Hello?” she called softly. Something moved, something she couldn’t really make out, but somehow she knew it had moved. “Please, I’d like to -”

            It was gone. She didn’t fully understand how she knew, since she couldn’t see it, but she knew it was gone. She sighed a little and went back to picking flowers.

            Her eyelids began to flutter open, and she looked around.

            She was in her bed in Skyhold, the dark canopy above her. She was warm, her cheek sticky with sweat where it lay. She realized she could smell something crisp, like fresh soap, and she closed her eyes and breathed in Cullen’s scent deeply. She was still lying on his chest, his arms were still wrapped tightly around her.

            The sunlight pouring in through the balcony doors told her that it was early morning, and the sun had just risen. They had slept for ages, she realized. He had brought her to her room before sunset, and she felt certain she had fallen asleep not long after. They must have both been exhausted, to sleep that long.

            She pulled herself from his arms and propped herself on her elbow to stare down at him, enjoying the sight of him sleeping beside her once more. She hadn’t admitted it until yesterday, when she saw him crying over her, how terrified she also was that she had almost died. It hadn’t felt real to her until she was in his arms again, seeing the warmth and love in the amber depths of his eyes as he looked at her. The look of pain tangled up with love, his eyes glistening with unshed tears for her, for his fear that he had almost lost her…

            He looked positively exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes. They emphasized the few wrinkles he had at the corners, making him look even older than he was. His eyes were flickering rapidly under his eyelids, and she realized he must be dreaming. She found herself hoping it was a good dream, remembering his horrible night terrors in Redcliffe. She wondered if he had still been avoiding sleep while she was gone like he had been after their return to Skyhold, or if he’d actually tried to get any. By the looks of him, she doubted he had.

            She ran her fingers through his hair, playing gently with the curls and waves as she watched him sleep. She traced the scar at the corner of his mouth and dragged her nail through his stubble on his chin. He needed to shave, it looked like it had been longer than he normally went, like he hadn’t considered it important while he waited for her to return.

            She had been gone for weeks, and she felt herself beginning to get hot while she lay watching him sleep. She stretched her stomach and ribs a little, seeing if she still had any aches and pains from her injury. There was a slight twinge, but not enough to dissuade the direction her mind was beginning to go.

            She ran her fingers through his hair again, rolling herself closer to him so she could reach his jaw with her lips. She pressed a kiss to his chin, and then lightly nipped his prickly skin, enjoying the way his stubble dragged through her teeth and felt rough on her lips and tongue. She strained further to reach up to his scar, and she slowly slid her tongue along it to trace it.

            He gave a soft murmur, an incoherent word came to his throat. She smiled and traced his scar with her tongue again before she pressed a feather-light kiss to it.

            “Cullen,” she whispered, and she stroked her hand down his chest and drew her nails down his stomach. She ran her fingers along the chiseled muscles of his belly, and they flexed and pulled in suddenly as if she’d tickled him. _Maker, he’s a beautiful man_ , she thought as she traced the deep ‘v’ shape where his waist met his hips above his breeches, which he was still wearing. She was staring at the sight of his well-trained, tightly-honed body and didn’t see that he’d opened his eyes.

            “Love?” he said, his voice husky. She snapped her gaze up to his and smiled. She pulled herself up again to reach his mouth, and pressed a slow, seductive kiss to his lips.

            “I missed you,” she murmured against him.

            “Evelyn, you’re injured, I shouldn’t -”

            “I’m not in pain, and they had cleared me to go back into battle,” she countered quietly, and gave him a suggestive smile. “Plus I know how gentle you can be with me, when you want to be.”

            He was staring at her for a moment as if lost in uncertainty, but seemed to come to a decision quickly. One of his arms snaked around her waist and he rolled with her so that he was on top of her, easily spreading her legs with his as he did so. His mouth crushed down against hers, giving away his impatience after his initial hesitancy. It made her head spin, and she felt a delicious throbbing between her legs. She hadn’t known what it was to miss someone like this, to miss lovemaking, until now – and she didn’t know how much she’d enjoy it. The feeling, the pining, was a beautiful kind of desperation, and she realized that if reunions would feel like this – she wanted as many of them as she could get.

            Her hands flew to the laces of his breeches and tried to unlace them quickly, but her hands trembled in her excitement. He gave her a crooked grin and sat back to do it himself, freeing his hard length as he threw the breeches off the side of the bed. She gave a soft moan at the sight of him, and reached up with her arms to encourage him back down to her. He gladly obliged, and captured her lips with his again in a hungry kiss.

            Cullen pressed himself down onto her, gently laying himself on top of her. He pulled back from the kiss for a moment to look at her, and she knew he was making sure he wasn’t hurting her. She smiled encouragingly and brushed his lips with hers. He felt between her slit with his fingers, and moaned when he felt how wet she was.

            “Evelyn – I missed you,” he whispered, his voice strained with his need, with the emotion behind the word _missed_. She knew for both of them, it was more desperate than normal because of her injury.

            He spent several moments kissing her as he stroked between her wet folds, and then he guided himself to her opening with his hand and slid easily inside her, all the way to the hilt. She bit her lip and groaned, the feeling of being filled by him once more too wonderful for words.

            “I love you,” he murmured, and he began moving gently, tenderly thrusting into her. He was being more careful than he had ever been, and his hot body pressed against hers as he moved within her was drowning out everything else. “Evelyn – Maker, please – I can’t lose you.”

            She gave a soft cry, her fingers tightening on his back. “Cullen – I love you – I love you,” she gasped, already feeling pushed to the edge by his body moving against hers, touching every one of her nerves.

            “Promise me,” he pleaded against her lips. “Promise me, love, I can’t -”

            The tug of emotion in his voice brought tears to her eyes, and she rolled her hips against him. She closed her eyes and tried to use her body to tell him, to reassure him, to promise him. “I promise,” she whispered. “I promise – I love you.”

            He continued moving slowly against her, so tenderly and yet urgently, and she cried out in soft whimpers as she felt herself fall apart under his loving, unhurried movements. He twisted his mouth against hers in response, but he kept up his languid, deep thrusts, not in any hurry to finish himself.

            His hands slid along her body, he clasped one of her hands and held it tightly in his. He kept kissing her with an intensity that made her pant and gasp, feeling suffocated and intoxicated by it. Still he moved within her, and she felt herself pushed to the edge again. She moaned his name, and he gave her a crooked smile.

            “I’ll never tire of hearing that,” he murmured, and so she moaned his name again.

            She came undone a second time, arching her back and crying out, feeling overcome with sensation and emotion. He’d never taken her so tenderly, even the first time; she’d never felt that much emotion behind it before. Which was a surprise, considering how much emotion and love was present every time before. He finished not long after she did, still pulling himself from her, but he stared at her belly after with an odd look on his face after his hot seed had finished covering her. She glanced down and saw him staring at her scar, and she felt herself flush.

            She had been worried he wouldn’t find her beautiful any longer, not with the huge gash running the length of one side of her belly. Instead she realized she needed to worry about him constantly being faced with a reminder of how close he had come to losing her. He was still staring down at the scar, and he finally reached over and slowly slid a finger down it.

            “Cullen,” she murmured, and he raised his gaze to hers. “I’m fine. I’m back. Just like I promised.”

            He gave a small smile, but it looked difficult for him.


	68. Close

            They almost had him.

            Rylen had sent a report, he had passed on all of the information they had from Emprise du Lion, from the quarry – and Cullen knew they finally had enough to pursue Samson. He sat staring at the report, a mixture of emotions chasing each other through his mind. Their forces were heading back, and needed to prepare before they could leave again and pursue their leads. There was much to be done.

            This time, he would go with her. He had to. Samson, Maddox…this felt like his responsibility, he had to see it through. He wasn’t going to let her face this one alone.

            He picked the letter back up and stared at the postscript, rereading it thoughtfully.

 

_P.S. Commander – I’m sorry for lying to you in my first letter about the Inquisitor’s injuries. At the time that I sent it, we knew that she was badly wounded but assumed that the healing magic, poultices, and potions would work and heal the flesh wound. I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily, so I didn’t tell you how horrible it was. I wasn’t expecting it to be poisoned. I know she’s safe now, but – I feel guilty that I lied to you initially. I just didn’t want to burden you with it, and then her condition deteriorated. I feel my lie made it worse. Please forgive me._

_We should be back in two days, I’m sending this from the road – we hurried out of the area and I didn’t want to send an incomplete report._

            Cullen sighed and set the letter back down. The forces would be back tomorrow, considering when Rylen had dated the report. He needed to call a war council.

 

* * *

 

 

            “We found orders in the mine. They mention Maddox, a name I did not expect to hear,” Cullen said.

            Evelyn was frowning as she took it all in. Their forces were returning from the Lion the next day, and Rylen had finished and sent his report on the quarry about the red lyrium.

            She felt almost sick to her stomach, after hearing Cullen read the report. Samson had been growing red lyrium out of people. She had had her suspicions, before she was injured, about what may be going on in the quarry. She had known that she may be approaching discovering part of the source of the Red Templars’ lyrium. Rylen had finally found those answers for her, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t found them instead.

            Cullen looked determined, irritated, almost – but highly motivated. She felt sure that he was taking Samson’s involvement as a personal offense, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of a (former) Templar falling so low – as though he was insulted that someone would think he was capable of the same, or as if Samson gave former Templars a bad name. She tried to pull herself out of her musings to listen to her advisors and Dagna talking about Samson’s armor, to listen to him talk about the need to find a way to break the armor.

            Finally something broke her out of her reveries.

            “You said Maddox like you knew him,” she mused. “Another voice from your past?”

            “Maddox was…a mage in the circle at Kirkwall,” he answered her, his voice slow. “This is complicated.” He sighed.

            Evelyn folded her arms and waited patiently, watching him intently as he thought how best to explain.

            “Samson smuggled letters between Maddox and his sweetheart,” Cullen continued after a moment. “Eventually Samson was caught – it’s why he was cast out of the Order.”

            Evelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That was all? That was his grand crime against the Order?”

            “Yes, unfortunately,” Cullen murmured. “And Maddox was…made Tranquil. He became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson…must have rescued him.”

            Evelyn felt her stomach lurch. “He was made Tranquil for having a sweetheart?” She couldn’t help herself; she pictured a world where she had met Cullen sooner, where they were mage and Templar in love, enjoying forbidden passion in the library or the dark corners of the Circle. That could have happened to her, if things had gone differently. Could he have been kicked out of the Order to beg for lyrium in the streets, could she have been made Tranquil for their indiscretions, for their passion? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t imagine a world where the two of them hadn’t been immediately and ardently taken with one another as they had been – she was suddenly incredibly glad that they had met when they had.

            “The official charge was ‘corrupting the moral integrity of a Templar,’” Cullen answered her grimly. But his voice trailed off quietly with his next confession. “Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offenses, believe me.”

            She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was holding himself responsible for that, that he was thinking he should have somehow been able to stop her doing so. But she remembered too what he had said about Knight-Commander Meredith hiding things from him, like she knew he would only go so far. She knew it wasn’t his fault.

            She hoped he understood from the small smile she gave him that that was what she was thinking.

            She listened as he explained the rest of the report, as he explained their leads. It would take them a few weeks to arrange, possibly, but they were close.

            They almost had him.

 

* * *

 

            It was the most inopportune time for a knock on his door. He found himself glad that at least whoever was there had had the courtesy to knock, since they hadn’t stopped to lock any of the doors.

            “No – wait, Cullen, I’m so – _oh_ ,” Evelyn gasped breathlessly, and she bit her lip as she threw her head back. He could feel it too, the tingling around him was so intense he felt like he was seeing stars, and he knew she’d be throbbing around him soon. 

            “Just a minute, please,” he called out loudly, trying to keep his voice from giving them away.

            He wrapped an arm firmly around her hips, trying to give her a bit more leverage as he adjusted the angle for her just so. His other hand gripped the desk in front of him tightly as he jerked his hips up to meet her, just once, twice, and she was pressing her lips together to hide the whimpers she made as she came undone around him. He hadn’t meant to do it, he had just intended to let her find her release – but the feeling overwhelmed him and he suddenly felt his balls tighten and his cock throb intensely. His head came against her collar bone sharply and he held the desk even tighter with his fingers, gasping as he came with her.

            Her fingers were twisting in his hair and she let out a moan as she realized what he had done. She pulled his head back and pressed her lips fiercely to his as she slowed her movements as they both finished.

            “Evelyn, love,” he murmured, momentarily unable to think. He pressed a few kisses to her lips, trying to catch his breath.

            “I’ll – I’ll go up to the loft,” she whispered breathlessly, and she began to pull herself off of his lap. Her legs wobbled as she lowered her skirt and pulled her shirt back over her shoulders. She quickly stumbled over to the ladder and shakily climbed her way up it as quietly as she could.

            Cullen took a moment to try to calm his breathing before he pushed himself back into his breeches and quickly refastened the laces. He wiped the sweat from his brow and ran a hand over his mouth before he picked his gloves up from where he’d thrown them on the desk. He knew it had to smell like sex, and he quickly blew out a candle, hoping the sudden smoke would mask the scent. With one last deep breath, he pulled on his gloves and called for entry from where he sat behind his desk. He didn’t trust himself to stand to greet whoever had interrupted them.

            Rylen opened the door and entered carrying a few reports. “Sorry, Commander, we met earlier and I know it’s getting late,” his second began, and he hesitated suddenly as he looked at Cullen.

            “It’s fine, please – come in,” Cullen gestured to the chair across from him.

            The other man approached and took his seat at the desk. He handed over the sheets of parchment he held and began his report, and Cullen noticed occasionally he shot furtive glances at the Commander as though something was wrong. He told himself he was being paranoid.

            Cullen was struggling to focus on the man’s words, still reeling from what had been interrupted. Evelyn had come to his office to join him for the night, and had intended to only steal a kiss from him before she retired to wait for him in his bed. But she’d been away for weeks, they were still catching up after her absence and injury. Every time that he saw her he felt a desperate need to hold her to him. And as she kissed him he pulled her into his lap so he could deepen the embrace, and twist his mouth against hers greedily. Before he knew it one of them, he couldn’t even remember who, had undone his breeches and he was inside her. She had had her hands on his shoulders, her knees bent on either side of his thighs in the small confines of his chair, and she had bounced and rocked herself on him so wantonly he hadn’t been able to think straight. He was still incredibly grateful Rylen had thought to knock because of the late hour. Otherwise he would have caught the Inquisitor in the act of riding her Commander at his desk, her breasts exposed and bouncing in response to her quick rhythm. It was a perfect sight to behold, and he was glad the other man hadn’t seen it.

            He snapped out of his thoughts as he realized Rylen was staring at him expectantly. “Commander, did you hear me?”

            “Sorry, Rylen,” he shook his head a little. “Bad headache.”

            Rylen nodded slowly but he still looked at Cullen with his brow furrowed, as though he was trying not to mention something. Cullen wondered if he was again thinking of apologizing for the lie he’d told in his letter.

            “Can we continue this in the morning?” Cullen asked. His second nodded and stood.

            “Of course, Commander, that will give you time to read the reports,” Rylen agreed and he walked to the door. “I hope your head feels better. Good night, ser.”

            Cullen waited a moment after the Knight-Captain left before he stood and walked to each of his office’s doors and bolted them against intrusion. He quickly mounted the ladder to reach his loft.

            Evelyn was lying on his bed, her eyes closed, her arms above her head, and her hair spread over the pillow as though she’d fallen back on the bed and hadn’t moved since she had. He knelt on the mattress and leaned over her and she opened her eyes with a smile. She suddenly began laughing and cried, “Oh no, _no_!”

            “What?” he asked, bewildered. She was laughing but looked at him with slight dismay in her eyes.

            “Your hair!” she giggled harder. “Oh darling, I’m so sorry, I made a terrible mess of your hair.”

            Cullen pulled off a glove and ran his hand over his hair. She was right. He could tell the curls were twisted this way and that, some standing on end, the obvious path of fingers marked through the locks because of the way his sweat had dampened them. He realized what Rylen must have been frowning at while they had spoken.

            He chuckled a little, and began to slide his ungloved hand under her skirt to caress her thighs. She stared up at him, the laughter dying in her eyes as they fluttered shut in greedy anticipation. He reached her inner thighs and found that they were covered in dripping stickiness, and he felt himself hardening again in his breeches as he touched it. He knew it was him, he knew it was his seed spilled out of her and down her legs, too much to stay within her. He slipped a finger inside her and felt all of the evidence of their shared pleasure, the first time they had come together. He slowly began to stroke inside her as he leaned down for a deep kiss, intending to take more time to enjoy her now that the doors were locked.


	69. Desired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go with the first part of the next chapter but they flowed really awkwardly as one chapter, so here have some fun little smut before we get a fluffy surprise in the next chapter.
> 
> xx,  
> L

            Evelyn heard a soft whimpering, a moaning sounding beside her. She fluttered her eyelids open and looked over her shoulder, trying to see through the darkness. Cullen was twitching a little where he lay behind her, moaning indistinct words. She rolled over quickly and propped herself on an elbow so she could look down into his face; he was frowning, still trying to form words of protest as he whimpered. “Cullen, love, wake up,” she said, her tone soft and reassuring. She reached a hand up and stroked his cheek, tracing his scar as she always did so maybe he would realize it was her. “It’s a dream – wake up, I’m here.”

            He gave another slight twitch but his eyes opened, his brows still furrowed as he looked around in obvious bewilderment. He looked disoriented, and tried to sit up. She placed a hand gently on his chest and pushed him back into the pillows.

            “Shh, love, it’s all right,” she told him. “You’re awake, you’re safe now. You’re here with me, in your bed.”

            Cullen blinked his eyes and looked around again before his gaze finally settled on her, his amber depths finally looking focused as they searched her face. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, was I -”

            “No need to apologize, love,” she smiled at him. “You just seemed like you were having a nightmare, I thought I’d try to pull you out of it.”

            “I – I was, thank you,” he sighed with relief and raised a hand to his brow, rubbing his forehead. “Was I screaming again?”

            “No, just shaking a little and moaning,” she lightly caressed his chest with her hand as she continued to peer down into his face. “I’m glad it – it seemed a bit better, than before. But I didn’t see any reason to let you stay stuck in a nightmare, and luckily you were loud enough to wake me up.”

            “It wasn’t, you’re right,” he agreed, still rubbing his forehead. “It was the same as it always is, trapped in that cage.” He heaved a deep sigh and finally lowered his hand from his brow.

            “I’m sorry, Cullen,” she murmured, and began stroking his hair. “Are you in any pain as well? Anything I can do to help you?”

            He chuckled a little as he regarded her. “I’m not sure if it will _help_ me, but – you could let me show some gratitude for waking me up.”

            She giggled as he rolled over to lie on top of her, closing her eyes in contentment as he began to scatter kisses over her face and neck. “I mean, it’s not necessary – but I certainly won’t say no.”

            He gave her a crooked grin and kissed her deeply for a moment before he moved his attention to her breasts, running his tongue over her nipples and sucking her flesh until she moaned. “Dearest, you’re too good to me,” he murmured as he continued kissing lower, running his tongue down her belly.

            She knew what he intended, and she spread her thighs for him in eager anticipation, her heart racing. She had never known how wonderful this could feel. She had heard some of the other mages in the Circle talk about letting their lovers do this for them, of how much they were willing to do in return if their lover would just use their tongue on them. She had thought the idea was intriguing, but hadn’t been able to fully imagine what it felt like. When Cullen had done it that first time at the lake, she had finally understood what the other mages meant.

            She hadn’t imagined either that a lover could be so eager to do it – she had never had to ask or beg for it like she heard the others say they had to. Instead, he always seemed keen on running his tongue over her, lapping at her pearl and her wet opening until she whimpered and cried his name. The sensation overwhelmed her, and she looked down to watch him, only to see his warm amber eyes fixed on her face as well. The sight pushed her over the edge and she cried out, and she could see the look of excited lust increase in his gaze as he watched her fall apart.

            He finally raised his mouth from her and pressed a few kisses to the inside of her thighs, his stubble tickling her skin, her wetness leaving a trail on her skin marking the passage of his lips. He sat up and stretched out over her, pulling her thighs wide as he pressed into her. She moaned and thrust her hips up to meet him. Soon only the sound of their panting breaths and flesh rapidly slapping against flesh filled the otherwise quiet loft. She had been embarrassed by the sounds of passion she overheard in the Circle at night, but now as she listened to her thighs smacking against his as he thrust into her, the sound aroused her to new heights. It was primal, and made her feel feminine and desired in a way she’d never thought she was missing from her life until he helped her discover that she had been.

            Watching her lover enjoy her so thoroughly as he tried to push her to her own release was enough to do her in, and she arched her back, calling out his name as she bucked her hips wildly against him. He groaned loudly, and she felt his hot release fill her as his own thrusts became sporadic. She gasped at the sensation, feeling fulfilled that he had once again come with her, just as he had that evening at his desk. The time after that, before they went to sleep, he had pulled himself from her once more. She could tell he had seemed to experience a possessive pride when he had felt the stickiness on her thighs when he came up to the loft, though. She’d wondered a little at the change, but now she saw him giving her a crooked grin as he finally slowed his thrusts and leaned back over her to kiss her.

            “You like that, don’t you?” he purred against her lips.

            “I do,” she confessed softly. “I can’t even fully understand why…but it’s wonderful.”

            He just kept smiling and kissing her. “Just don’t forget the potion, and I can – I’ll keep doing that. Because I like it too. I – I love finishing with you, within you.”

            “Me too,” she kissed him deeply.

            “You said that,” he teased, and she giggled, remembering their chess game and her awkward flirtations.

            “Evelyn, you’re -” he began, but he stopped and shook his head. “I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

 


	70. An Unexpected Visitor

            Evelyn and Cullen were making their way in to the Keep, discussing their plans for the war council. She was distracted a bit by the warmth in his eyes, the silent understanding that always passed between them even when just discussing business. She was lost in their conversation, absorbed in the golden gaze of the man she loved so much. She didn’t look at anyone else, she wasn’t aware of their surroundings as they walked into the Main Hall. All that she saw was him, the small grin that his lips always quirked into when he looked at her. No one else existed to her beyond that, in that moment.

            “Evie?” a deep voice called out, and she stopped dead in her tracks, frozen by the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in over fourteen years. “Little Evie! Excuse me, pardon me,” she heard the voice continue, and footsteps sounded behind her.

            Finally coming back to her senses, she noticed Cullen had turned to face the one calling her, and she slowly turned as well to see him approach.

            A tall, slender man with black hair was hurrying their way, his face in a wide, warm smile. He was finely garbed, and he was wearing a long deep blue traveling cloak that was clearly expensive and well made. His hair was streaked with grey, his goatee had a few patches of grey in it as well, and his eyes had crinkly wrinkles at their corners. He walked forward eagerly, staring fixedly at Evelyn, an indecipherable look in his eyes.

            She still stood just staring at him, frozen by how unexpected it was to see him. He stopped before her finally, staring down at her as his forest green eyes filled with tears. “Evie,” he said again, and she could hear the emotion catch in his throat.

            “Papa?” she finally whispered, overcome with a multitude of emotions, unable to focus on sorting them out to determine how she really felt. She was worried, worried he was angry that she hadn’t written, that she’d never spoken to him after she went to the Circle. She was sad to see how much fourteen years had aged him, knowing part of that was the sadness he had experienced in the years she had been gone, the losses he had faced alone. But she was happy to see him, joyful beyond words, and she felt her eyes well with tears as she took a step toward him.

            “You’re all grown up now,” he murmured, and he reached out to stroke her cheek. “My little girl – little Evie.”

            And he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to him as she began crying. For several long moments they simply held each other, both crying as they enjoyed a long overdue reunion. Finally he stepped back and held her by her shoulders, still looking her over as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

            “Papa, what are you doing here?” she asked, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

            “I wanted to see you, and your Commander invited me to visit Skyhold so that I could,” her sire answered.

            She raised her eyebrows in shock and looked at Cullen, who was still standing beside them. “Cullen, you -”

            Her father released her shoulders and turned to observe the Commander, as if he had just noticed the other man standing there. “Commander?” he asked, and Cullen nodded and held out a hand.

            “Lord Trevelyan, an honor to meet you,” he greeted him as they shook hands. “I take it you had an uneventful journey?”

            “Yes, surprisingly,” the Bann replied. “Thank you for your invitation, for accepting my request for a visit.”

            “Of course, it is no trouble,” Cullen smiled. “Eve – Inquisitor, I’ll head to the War Room and let them know you will be absent today. I’ll give you two a chance to catch up.”

            “Thank you, Commander,” she said, noticing that he had slipped back into formality in front of her father. She watched her lover depart, and noticed her father watching the man’s departure as well, an interesting look in his eyes. She raised her gaze to her sire’s again and smiled. “We have a garden nearby, would you like to see it? Or I can show you the keep -”

            “Either is fine,” he beamed down at her. “It would be good to talk, to see firsthand what you have accomplished.”

            Evelyn smiled and took her father’s hand, turning to lead him to the courtyard so she could give him a tour of Skyhold and tell him about the Inquisition.

 

* * *

 

            “You’ve done very well, Evie,” her father said as he looked around at the hardworking recruits.

            “I’ve had a lot of help,” she answered softly. “I wouldn’t be able to do this alone, I have advisors, and friends, and -”

            “Evelyn, it’s obvious that they all admire and respect you. They help you because they’re willing to follow you,” he pointed out firmly. He sounded fiercely proud. “I’ve heard stories about the Inquisition, about what you’re doing. Seeing all of this…”

            For a moment he looked around, at a loss for words as he took it all in. “I’m very proud of you. It’s obvious you’re a competent leader, a competent woman.”

            Evelyn felt tears fill her eyes as she looked up at him. He was smiling down at her, and almost seemed like he was holding back emotion as well. “Thank you, Papa,” she murmured.

            “I never would have expected any of this, for you,” he sighed. “But I’m happy to see how well you’re doing.”

            She smiled and nodded. “I’m…I’m sorry I never wrote, or visited,” she admitted, no longer able to resist apologizing. “I thought, maybe it would be easier -”

            “It’s fine, Evie,” he interrupted. “It was a difficult situation for all of us. I should have written, I should have made it clearer that we – that we still loved you very much, that we wanted to see you. That you were still our daughter.”

            He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I never blamed you for sending me away,” she assured him, squeezing his hand in return. “Somehow I knew, even at first when it was all new and terrifying, that you did it to protect me.”

            “I’m glad,” he admitted. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve felt guilty for sending you to the Circle. Watching the Templars take you away…it didn’t just devastate your mother, you know.”

            Evelyn wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, about she and Bron.”

            “I am too,” he murmured. “She was very proud of you. She always told me she knew that you were destined for great things. If she could see you now…”

            His voice caught in his throat and he fell silent. Evelyn continued wiping at the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks.

            “She would be pleased to see how beautiful you’ve grown to be,” he chuckled slightly. “I never expected my lanky little girl to grow up to be such a beautiful woman. I missed all of it, too – I’ve still been picturing you as a little girl of seven with pigtails.”

            Evelyn giggled a little. “That must have made the stories of the Herald interesting.”

            He let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, especially the more dangerous ones. You can’t imagine how much I’ve worried, ever since the start of the Mage Rebellion.”

            “I’ve been all right,” she hurried to assure him. She could tell him later about her close brushes with death – if she ever did.

            “If anything it seems like you’ve had – people – trying to protect you. That’s a comfort, at least,” he mused. She wondered a little at the way he hesitated at the word ‘people.’

            “Are you staying for long?” she asked, instead of asking what he meant.

            “I thought I might, if that was all right,” he smiled at her. “I’d like to spend some time with you, to get to know you, who you’ve become. I’ll try not to get in the way of your Inquisition, or your work. In fact I’d like to help, if I can.”

            “I would like that, Papa,” she stepped forward and gave her father a hug. She had many years of hugs to make up for.

 

* * *

           

            “Evelyn,” Cullen greeted her as she closed the door to his office. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, tonight.”

            She giggled and walked over to where he sat at his desk, taking her usual seat on its edge before him. “Of course, darling. This is where I sleep, isn’t it?” she reached over and caressed his cheek, a tender look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me my father had written to you?”

            He shrugged. “The letter came while you were in the Lion, and then you were injured and it slipped my mind,” he answered honestly. “You aren’t angry, are you? His request made it seem like he wanted to come evaluate how his forces could help us, like he wanted to visit as a formal dignitary. But I could tell he wanted -”

            “He wanted to come see me,” she smiled brightly at him. “I’m not angry – how could I be? You reunited me with my father.”

            He gave her knee a squeeze with his hand. “I worried you would think I was interfering, considering how long it had been since you had spoken.”

            “No, darling, it helped – a great deal,” she leaned down and kissed him, but sat back quickly. “Should I have – introduced you as more than the Commander? I couldn’t tell if you -”

            Cullen couldn’t help it and started laughing. He had been incredibly nervous to see the elder Trevelyan standing in front of him, suddenly faced with the prospect of meeting his lover’s father. He had panicked and tried to keep it professional, to let her decide how she wanted to handle it. He worried he had upset her with how stiff he was during the exchange. “I wanted to let you decide that,” he replied at last. “I must say, when I invited him I gave little thought to the fact that it might mean being introduced to him as your lover, and not just the Commander. I only did it for you, so you could be reunited with him.”

            “That’s perhaps one of the sweetest things you’ve ever done for me, and you’ve done plenty of sweet things for me,” she murmured. Her voice was lowering, becoming more like a purr as she spoke. “Last night comes to mind,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, “are you done with work for the evening, love?”

            He smiled against her kiss and nodded. “Yes, I am – if you’re ready for bed?”

            She giggled lightly and stood from the desk. She crooked her finger and motioned for him to follow her to the ladder, which he did eagerly, making sure to lock the doors before he mounted the rungs after her.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Come in,” he called, trying to hide the irritation in his voice at being interrupted. His head was beginning to ache as he pored over Dagna’s notes on Samson’s armor, and he didn’t feel like listening to a report at the moment. He looked up to watch his visitor enter, and felt surprised when he saw who it was.

            “Commander Cullen?” Lord Trevelyan began, closing the door behind him hesitantly. “I asked where your office was, I wondered if I may have a moment of your time.”

            Cullen gave a jerky nod, hating how he suddenly felt so nervous. He was a grown man; he was too old to feel like a young lad facing his sweetheart’s father to ask for permission to court her. And yet that was exactly how he felt. “Of course, my lord,” he answered, trying to steady his voice. “Please, how may I help you?”

            Lord Trevelyan took his seat across from Cullen and contemplated for a moment before he spoke. “I wanted to express my gratitude for extending an invitation to come to Skyhold to me,” he began. “I know I said I wanted to visit as a formal dignitary -”

            “I could tell you wanted a chance to see your daughter, my lord,” Cullen interjected with an understanding smile. “I thought it best to give you both the chance to see each other, after many years apart. Times like these, we need to take what chances we can find.”

            The other man nodded for a moment, looking lost in thought. “Yes, yes, quite right,” he murmured. “You seem to know a great deal about her.”

            Cullen hesitated, trying to think how best to respond. “We spend a great deal of time together, considering our roles,” he answered, trying to sound casual. “I was a Templar, you see, and I asked about her family, thinking maybe she hadn’t seen them in a long time. I never realized how long it may have been.”

            “You were a Templar?” Lord Trevelyan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m surprised you’re close to her, then, I thought the two would be natural enemies.”

            “Not always, no.”

            The Bann nodded again, and he raised a finger to his chin and tapped it as he thought. It reminded Cullen of the way Evelyn always fidgeted when she was contemplating important matters, and he smiled a little to himself. “Is that, perhaps, the reason you seem so interested in making sure she is safe, protected?”

            Cullen raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. “She is the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and I – it is my duty to protect her and keep her safe.”

            Lord Trevelyan got an interesting sparkle in his eyes. “I see. Well, I feel I must say thank you for doing so. It certainly eases my anxiety at her position, and everything going on, to know she has you looking out for her.”

            “I intend to keep doing so, no matter the cost,” Cullen hastily assured him, and he mentally cringed, worrying that the Bann had picked up on the emotion in his voice.

            “She always was a gentle soul,” the other man mused quietly. “I never knew there could be such goodness in someone, until we had her. Even as a child, she was just so…Compassionate, so kind and curious, always beautifully naïve. It warms my heart to see that somehow, through all of this, she’s maintained that.”

            Cullen only responded with a nod, not trusting what he may give away if he tried to speak. He knew she was a gentle soul; he loved that about her so much.

            “I appreciate that you seem to be trying to protect that about her as well,” the Bann continued. “I can tell, too, that you… It’s – obvious – that you…”

            Lord Trevelyan trailed off and pursed his lips, like he was trying to think how best to proceed. Cullen swallowed nervously, thinking that he knew what was coming. The Bann seemed to be as astute at observation as his daughter, and Cullen wondered what he had done that had given it away.

            “Commander, it hasn’t escaped my notice that my daughter has grown into a beautiful young woman,” he began again. “It has also not escaped my notice that you seem intently interested and attached to her. I know that due to the events of fate, I haven’t been as involved in her life as I should have been.”

            Cullen sat still, not nodding or doing anything as he listened, wondering what was coming as he waited for the other man to continue.

            “May I ask – what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

            Cullen thought for a moment, and decided honesty was the best response. “My lord, I…love Evelyn, with all my heart and soul. As for my intentions,” he sighed a little. “At the moment I intend to love and protect her. With everything going on, thinking about any sort of future almost seems futile, but…if there is to be one, I intend to spend it with her.”

            “I see,” the Bann said again. “And may I ask, have you – have you told her this?”

            “We haven’t spoken in specifics about a future,” Cullen admitted. “But I do mean for us to have one. I intend to help her succeed, and when this is all over, I – well, I intend for her to be my wife, the mother of my children.”

            Cullen hadn’t said it out loud, he had hardly let himself think about it, not wanting to let himself get his hopes up. And here he was, now, saying it to her father.

            “That is…somehow more comforting to hear than you may think,” the other man finally replied. “I worried perhaps it was something less, for you. Might I ask another question?”

            “Of course,” Cullen felt more eager to continue the discussion now that his confession had been so well received.

            “How old are you, Commander? I – I don’t mean to be rude, but your eyes, it’s – it’s hard to tell,” the Bann almost looked like he flushed a little, like he thought he was being nosy.

            “I am about to be six-and-thirty, my lord.”

            “Ah,” the Bann nodded. “I apologize, it’s just…something about your eyes, you looked much older. I couldn’t help but worry, a bit. Forgive me, just a father’s odd, trivial concerns.”

            Cullen frowned, a little confused. He knew his own concerns about their age difference, of the way he still worried she needed someone younger and healthier than him, all things considered. But the Bann didn’t know about his lyrium withdrawal, so his concern felt different.

            “Have I offended?” Lord Trevelyan interrupted Cullen’s musings.

            “No, no, I was just curious -”

            “Evelyn’s mother and I married quite young, and had Evelyn not long after,” the Bann explained. “I myself am only seven-and-forty, I worried that maybe you and I weren’t, ah – that far apart in age.”

            Cullen nodded and chuckled. “Ah,” he exclaimed as he began to understand the other man’s concerns.

            “Again, I apologize,” Lord Trevelyan laughed lightly as if embarrassed. “Well, I – I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time playing the absent-yet-overprotective father. I’ll let you get back to work.”

            “I don’t mind, my lord,” he stood as the other man did and held his hand out. “If you would still like to discuss your forces and the Inquisition, let me know. I understand from Evelyn that you will be staying for a while.”

            “Yes, I want to spend more time getting to know her,” the Bann shook his hand, and Cullen noticed that he was gripping it very firmly. It seemed to be an intentional pressure. “I will come by another time to discuss how my forces may assist, I think. Evie is waiting for me to join her for a game of chess.”

            “Another time then,” Cullen smiled and watched the older man depart, feeling relieved that he had somehow won the sire’s approval.


	71. Hopes Revealed

            “There you are, I was beginning to worry you were lost.” Evelyn greeted her father as he approached where she sat in the garden, a table laden with a chess board before her.

            “I was handling some business,” the older Trevelyan explained as he took his seat. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

            She smiled and finished setting the board. “It’s all right. What business?”

            Her father smiled slightly, an odd look in his eyes. “I was…speaking with your Commander.”

            Evelyn felt her heart race a little, unsure and nervous. “My Commander? Whatever for?”

            “Oh, I wanted to say thank you,” her father answered as he pondered the board before him.

            “For letting you come visit? You were welcome any time,” Evelyn frowned at the look on her father’s face. It looked almost mischievous, but she couldn’t tell. She was still relearning his expressions.

            “Yes, in addition to other matters he’s assisted me with.”

            Evelyn looked up from where she’d been studying her own potential moves, and raised her eyes in surprise. “What else has Cul – the Commander assisted you with?”

            “Evie, you can call him Cullen, it’s all right,” her father chuckled. She frowned sharply at his words. “I wanted to thank him for looking after you, for protecting you when I couldn’t be there for you.”

            She stared at him, thoroughly confused. “Papa, did – did Cullen say something to you?”

            “He didn’t need to, dear,” Lord Trevelyan smiled at her. “The poor man is quite obvious in the way he looks at you. I noticed it as soon as I saw you two together yesterday. His letter was – revealing as well, in the way he spoke of what it would mean to you for me to visit. I had my suspicions.”

            Evelyn looked down at the board and studied the pieces absently, her heart still racing. “I was going to tell you -”

            “You’re a grown woman, even if I missed you growing up – you don’t need to apologize,” he sighed. “But I must say, I…approve, actually.”

            She looked up, thoroughly surprised. “You do?”

            Lord Trevelyan studied her intently for a moment across the chess board. “He seems a very honorable man, and he seems to have the best intentions toward you.”

            “Intentions? Oh you didn’t,” Evelyn started laughing, realizing her father must have questioned Cullen, and tried to discern the nature of their relationship. It was an event she had never expected to happen, not after being sent to the Circle, not after being absent from her family for so many years. It felt oddly normal, like it was a moment from someone else’s life.

            “It’s my duty as your father, even if I haven’t been involved in over fourteen years,” he chuckled a little.

            “What did he say that made you approve so readily?”

            Lord Trevelyan frowned, as if considering his answer carefully. “I’ll let him tell you, in his own time. It was enough for me to think that maybe – maybe he deserves you.”

            Evelyn smiled softly, feeling tears well in her eyes. She liked the idea of her father and Cullen getting along, that they accepted one another. She had never thought any of this would happen, and it was all working out so well. She hadn’t expected to be in love, she hadn’t expected to reunite with her father. She still wasn’t sure if she truly had a future, not with everything going on. But for the first time in a long time, she felt even more hope that it was worth looking forward to one.

            “You aren’t bothered that he’s not a noble, or that he’s much older than me?” she asked timidly.

            “Evie, after everything that’s happened to our family, everything happening in Thedas… If the man loves you and wants to protect and care for you, if he makes you feel happy, safe, and loved – I couldn’t be happier for you.”

            A tear slid down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away.

            “I’m – thank you, Papa,” she murmured. “I didn’t expect any of this. I didn’t know how I could tell you, after fourteen years apart. I haven’t seen you since I was little, since I was running through the gardens with Bron. I didn’t know how to tell you that I had a – that I’m in love.”

            He was smiling at her, and he almost looked a little sad. “To be honest, I’m happy that this at least seems to be something normal in your life. I never thought you would have a chance for something like this, not after your magic showed itself. And I like the idea that our family might – might continue.”

  
            Evelyn’s brows furrowed and she stared at him for a moment.

            Suddenly she felt pretty certain she knew what Cullen must have said, what assurances he must have made.

            Her heart soared as she thought about it, as she suddenly realized that she wasn’t the only one allowing herself to try to find some hope about a future. She’d thought about it, late at night, when she was alone in her tent, unable to sleep without him beside her. She had thought about a home, maybe near the lake, maybe in Honnleath. Or in South Reach, near his siblings. Or maybe near Ostwick, near her father so he could visit his only family that remained. She had thought about a life full of love, spent together, building a family. No longer trying to fix all of Thedas. Able to live, like regular people.

            Maker she wanted that more than anything.

            It was the only thing worth fighting for.

         

* * *

             

            She could hear his voice, directing scouts in a meeting. It was getting late, and she would be surprised that he was meeting anyone this late, if they weren’t leaving in two days to pursue Maddox and Samson. There was still much to do.

            Evelyn snuck into the office, trying not to disturb him, trying not to interrupt or distract anyone. She leaned against the wall, and watched as he gave orders, as he led their forces. He was so competent, so capable, so focused and devoted. She smiled to herself as she watched him, admiring everything about him.

            Her conversation with her father had given her hope, had made her start to dream of life beyond the Inquisition.

            A life with him.

            She was still smiling as she watched him when he happened to look up and see her. He hesitated for the briefest moment in the commands he was giving, and then seemed to shake himself and move on. He concluded the meeting, seemingly quicker than he had been leading it before, and he waited as the scouts and soldiers filed out of the room. He followed the last of them and closed the door, locking it behind them.

            He leaned with his hands on the door for a moment and sighed. “There’s always something more…”

            “Wishing we could sneak away again?” she softly teased. He looked at her and gave her his crooked smile and quirked a brow.

            “If only,” he murmured.

            “Long day?” she asked, and he nodded wearily. “I hope my father coming by didn’t make it longer.”

            He frowned at her and stepped away from the door. “He told you he came by?”

            She hummed an affirmative answer. “He said he was thanking you for inviting him,” she watched as he nodded again, but his eyes looked distant. “And for looking after me so closely.”

            He chuckled, almost sounding a little nervous. “I suppose I should admit, love, he managed to – ah – coax it out of me.”

            She followed him across the office, to stand beside his desk. “Yes, he told me so.”

            “He did?” he raised his eyebrows. She was sure now that he actually did look nervous.

            She smiled. “He told me he – well, that he approves.”

            Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled again. “I felt like a young lad asking a girl’s father to let him court her,” he admitted. “He actually asked ‘what my intentions’ were.”

            She giggled. “So I understood from what he said,” she stepped to the desk, closer to him. “But what he didn’t tell me was what you said to win his approval. He said he’d let you tell me.”

            Cullen was staring at the desk, frowning a little, as if lost in thought.

            “Love?” she said softly, and took another step toward him.

            “You know, I never – I never let myself think of a future after the Inquisition,” he murmured. He finally raised his gaze to hers. “For so long, my life, it was just pain – and then after that, just thinking about our survival. About winning, about saving Thedas.”

            She gave a soft smile and a nod, letting him know she understood what he meant.

            “I know we haven’t really spoken in specifics about a – a future, at all, Evelyn,” he turned to face her. “But when this is all over, I…I won’t want to move on, not from you. I want…I want a life, with you. If you want that, too.”

            Her heart soared.

            “Cullen, I hadn’t thought to let myself hope for it, but I – I do, too.” She tried to lean back on the edge of the desk, but accidentally knocked over a stack of reports and an ink bottle. “Maker, I’m so sor -”

            But he was staring at the mess with an interesting look in his eyes. He hesitated just a moment, and then he used his arm to swipe everything else off the desk, onto the floor.

            He advanced on her the few steps it took to close the short distance between them, and she smiled. She leaned back onto the edge and put her hands behind her, to help maneuver herself onto the top of the desk. She recognized the gleam in his eyes.

            He put a knee beside her, he continued moving toward her, following her onto the desk to position himself over her.

            It was sturdier than she’d ever expected it to be.

            She lay back, smiling at him as he reached down for her, and captured her lips in a kiss.

            “Cullen,” she murmured when he pulled away to smile at her, “I want that – I want a life with you.”

            He worked on the buttons of her top as he twisted his mouth against hers. She raised her fingers to the fastenings of his mantle and began to tug at them, hoping to free him. Usually he was already out of his armor when they sought each other out, and she fumbled clumsily with his clasps and buckles in her haste.

            The pieces of his armor and her clothing soon littered the floor surrounding the desk, falling atop the reports and books he had already knocked off. His mouth barely left hers, except when he had to lean back to allow an article of clothing to pass between them. He twisted a hand in her hair, which she had left down, and he grabbed a fist of the silky strands as he raised his head.

            “Evelyn, I love you,” he moaned hoarsely against her lips. “Always.”

            “I love you,” she murmured, “always.”

            He reached above their heads with the hand that wasn’t tangled in her hair and gripped the edge as if bracing himself. She pulled her bent legs back to rest on the side of his chest, opening herself to him. His knees were resting by her rear, he was curled above her, trying to stay as close to all of her as he could, as he knelt over her on the desk. He found her opening easily and slid himself into her, eliciting a deep groan from both of them. She hadn’t realized how excited she already was, just from their declarations and fevered kisses.

            He rested his forehead on her collar bone, taking a moment to savor the feeling of being inside her again. She loved the way that he did that, how he sometimes paused as if it was the most amazing, awe-inspiring moment between them, the most sacred thing he’d experienced.

            He was still bracing himself with one hand on the other edge of the desk, and he finally began thrusting into her, moving deep and slow. He was taking his time, as if letting himself savor each and every sensation, each and every movement within her. The desk creaked slightly with his thrusts, but otherwise was able to withstand the passion of the lovers upon it.

            Cullen released her hair and slid his hand over her body, caressing her breast and gripping her thigh as he rolled his hips into hers. She felt the intensity, the words behind his movements, the words they were saying to each other through their bodies entwined and joined together.

            _I love you._

_Always._

_A future together._

_A life._

_A family._

_Together._

_Always._

            She gripped his back, her fingers leaving a trail of marks as she cried out softly, getting closer and closer to her release. He buried his face against her neck, nipping the skin and softly sucking it as he quickened his pace ever so slightly. She gasped, feeling it come upon her suddenly, and cried out his name as she felt herself fall apart. He went deep, pouring himself into her as he moaned her name as well, finding his own release at the same moment she did.

            When they had both finished he laid on top of her, both of them trying to regain their senses and breathing deeply. “Cullen,” she finally whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

            “I know, Evelyn,” he lifted his head and twisted his mouth against hers, stealing her panting breaths in a passionate kiss. “We can make it, we’ll have that future. Together.”


	72. Stars

            Cullen finished packing his saddle with his satchel and tightened the fastenings, trying to fight the shaking in his hands. The last two nights he had hardly slept, feeling nervous and apprehensive, his withdrawal increasing the pain in his head and the shaking in his extremities as he thought about what they were setting out to do. He noticed Evelyn kept glancing his way, as if making certain he was all right.

            Lord Trevelyan stood near them, intending to see off his daughter. He looked worried, and Cullen wondered what Evelyn had told her father about where they were going. He was watching her load her mount with her packs, and he paced around checking the buckles of her saddle. It made Cullen smile, thinking of how wonderful it was for Evelyn to have her family back in her life. But he knew too that her father had to be incredibly nervous, watching the last of his family ride off to go fight to save Thedas.

            Evelyn finished securing her saddle and turned to face her father with a reassuring smile.

            “Evie, please take care,” the elder Trevelyan implored her.

            “Of course, Papa. I’ll be back soon, you don’t have to worry about me,” she leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Besides, my Commander will take good care of me.”

            Cullen gave a crooked grin when he saw the bright smile Evelyn was giving him.

            “Please do, Commander,” her father turned to Cullen and held his hand out.

            He tried to suppress the chuckle he felt come to his throat, trying not to think of how formal and odd it was to be sent off like this, by the Inquisitor’s father. Instead he took the other man’s hand and shook it, still struggling to fight the shaking in his own hands so that it wouldn’t be noticed. But he saw Lord Trevelyan frown, and quickly cleared his throat to try to cover the moment.

            “We should be going, Evelyn,” he murmured, and turned to help her into her saddle. She gave one last hug to her father and let Cullen boost her onto her horse before he took his place on his own mount.

            “We’ll be back in a few weeks, Papa,” she said, and nodded farewell before they rode out the gates, side by side, leading several of her companions and Inquisition forces.

            They passed some time in silence, just enjoying the early morning and adjusting to the cold air of the Frostbacks. Finally he noticed Evelyn giving him sidelong glances and he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

            “Are you all right, love?” she asked when he met her questioning stare.

            “I’m – anxious,” he admitted. “We’re trying to accomplish something…truly difficult.”

            “I noticed you -”

            “I’m fine,” he interrupted. He didn’t want her to worry too much. But he was struggling a bit to keep his horse straight. His hands were shaking, and his vision blurred a little as he blinked his eyes against the glow of the rising sun.

            “I can help you, at camp – unless you need me to -”

            “I…thank you, Evelyn,” he conceded. He had wanted to deny that he needed her help, had wanted to say he was fine again. He realized though that he needed to accept her help; he had come along to protect her, to make sure they succeeded. He couldn’t let his pride get in the way. She always insisted she needed him at full strength, and he knew that meant letting her help ease his pains, even if he still felt he was adding to her burdens. She didn’t need to be focusing on him right now, not with everything going on. If he didn’t accept her help, though, he would be putting her in jeopardy. So he swallowed his self-doubt, he swallowed his hesitancy, he swallowed his renewed self-loathing that always came back when his withdrawal got worse. She needed him as much if not more than he needed her.

            She began talking about her father, telling him about how they had been spending time catching up, and he smiled as he listened to her. He knew she was trying to distract him, that she was trying to lighten his spirits. He listened attentively, letting her take his mind off their journey and what they intended to attempt. He focused on the way her eyes sparked with her usual intensity as she spoke, the way they basically shone as she recounted conversations she had had with her father. She looked so happy, so content to be reunited with her only family. He couldn’t help but feel a small bit of pride that he had helped it happen, and his head began to ache just a little less. He was no longer consumed with his thoughts on Maddox and Samson.

            The day’s journey was uneventful, and after they ate at camp that night they retired to their shared tent. She hadn’t packed her own, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit to himself as they stripped out of their armor. It felt natural, it felt possessive and wonderful the way they were laying a more public claim to one another by sharing a tent. Once out of their armor she encouraged him to sit before her on the floor beside the cot, and she rubbed her fingers together.

            “Darling, may I?” she asked.

            He chuckled slightly at how she still asked, still made sure he was comfortable, and leaned forward a bit so she could reach him more easily. They were facing each other cross-legged, and she placed her fingers on his temples and began to channel the ice and vibrating energy into his aching head. He moaned as soon as she touched him; the relief was immediate.

            “Why do you always resist letting me help you, love?” she murmured softly after several long minutes of her tender ministrations.

            He sighed and opened his eyes to look at her. “I – I still hate adding to your burdens. And I’m,” he let out a deeper sigh and shook his head slightly. “I suppose I’m ashamed. Embarrassed. It makes me feel weak.”

            He hated how his voice cracked, how it wavered. He hated how he felt compelled to tell her the truth.

            But she smiled, and continued her massages.

            “Oh love, you’re so wrong about that,” she told him. “Your struggles are a testament to your strength. Your withdrawal – what you’re going through – you’re trying to break the chains of lyrium. You remember that I told you I wished you could see yourself as I see you. Your struggle with your withdrawal is a part of that. I actually admire it about you a great deal.”

            He frowned a little as he listened to her, but his heart raced faster in response to her calming, loving words. She was still too good to him, he almost felt she loved him too much.

            “It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” she smiled more brightly at him. “You should wear it as a badge of honor. You’re attempting something so difficult. And asking me for help – I told you after that first time that I would help you whenever you needed it. And I meant that, no matter how things might have worked out between us, because I believe that you can do this, that you can succeed. Love, you’re so strong. You’re so capable. And you need to have more faith in yourself.”

            He swallowed hard. “I…thank you, Evelyn.”

            She smiled. “I told you, anytime you needed to be reminded. It’s one of my duties.”

            He fell silent and enjoyed her help for several more minutes until he finally felt the pain recede. He reached up and lifted her hands from his temples and kissed her fingers one at a time.

            “Lay back, love,” he whispered, and gave her a crooked grin when she raised her eyebrow at him.

            She bit her lip a little and lay back. He pushed the shift she was wearing up her body until it rested above her breasts, exposing her to his gaze.

            “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked as he unlaced his breeches and slid them off before he ran his hands up and down her legs.

            She giggled lightly, but the laughs quickly turned into moans as he settled himself between her legs.

            “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he continued softly. “I remember watching you at Haven, I remember checking in on you after you had walked out of the Breach. I didn’t realize fully then, but I think I knew – I wanted you more than words could express.”

            “That far back?” she whispered, and her eyes fluttered shut as he slid his fingers along her wet folds to spread her excitement over her. He finally settled his fingers on her pearl and began to swirl his fingers against it.

            “Yes, love – all those talks at Haven, that night I accidentally caught sight of your breast, so close I could have taken it in my hand, or captured it with my mouth. I wanted to do both of those things, and I hated myself for it, considering what had just happened. But I realized then just how much I wanted you – I thought I would go crazy with my desire for you.”

            She giggled again but caught her bottom lip between her teeth as he slid two fingers into her.

            “I woke up from dreams about you, woke up smelling you as if you were next to me. Every time I saw you all I could think about was how I wanted to take you, how I wanted to elicit cries of my name from your lips.”  
            She spread her legs a bit wider and he pulled his fingers from within her and stroked himself a few times to coat himself in her wetness before he positioned himself at her opening.

            “I thought about you all the time,” he whispered against her lips as he began to slide himself into her. “I wanted you so desperately, but didn’t think I could ever deserve you.”

            “That’s – mmm, love – I – you’re -” she was trying to reassure him, but he began moving within her and she seemed unable to respond with anything but moans and sighs. Her legs tightened around him and he quickened his pace.

            “Evelyn, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he murmured. “And right now all I ask is that you say my name in return. All I ask is that you let me hear you cry out to me while I’m within you, while I’m bringing you pleasure. The sound of my name on your lips is the most divine thing I’ve ever heard. I want to hear you say it.”

            Her fingers dug into his back and he rolled his hips against hers until she gasped. “Cullen,” she moaned softly.

            “Again, please, dearest,” he pleaded huskily.

            “Cullen – _Cullen_ ,” she answered in a deep moan, her back arching slightly and her hands moving lower to hold him to her.

            “Yes love,” he slid his mouth along her throat, pressing kisses to her flesh as he caressed her breasts and moved within her as deeply as he could. She continued moaning his name in response to his movements, and soon he felt the tingling and throbbing around him that made him weak in the knees. She cried his name out suddenly, her thighs tightening around him at the same time she clenched around him, and she jerked her hips against his in an erratic rhythm. He groaned and found his own powerful release, again giving in to the desire to finish with her.

            When they had slowed, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled.

            “Cullen,” she whispered one last time, and she giggled softly. He chuckled, suddenly feeling perfectly content with the world.

 

* * *

 

 

            The rest of their journey to the Shrine of Dumat passed with little incident, only minor skirmishes along the way that were easily handled considering the number of forces they were with. The night before their assault they stopped a good distance from their target so they couldn’t be detected as they organized and slept before the battle. Cullen felt his withdrawal and anxiety hit him so acutely when they tried to retire that he had to shut his eyes against the candlelight, suddenly finding it to be too bright. Evelyn seemed nervous as well, but he noticed she hid her nerves by trying to take care of him, doing her best to soothe his symptoms and struggles. He couldn’t help but think of the large scar that was still running down the right side of her abdomen, and his heart began to race at a rhythm he couldn’t calm. He couldn’t let it happen again, and he was plagued with worry that he wouldn’t be able to protect her from what was to come the next day.

            For a while they laid in the cot together, awake but silent in each other’s arms. Finally Evelyn sat up and looked at him. “Darling are you tired?” she asked softly.

            He shrugged. “I am but…I can’t seem to fall asleep.”

            “Me too,” she pursed her lips for a moment and stared at the tent flaps. “Put on some clothes, I have an idea.”

            They stood and dressed, Evelyn putting on her cloak and Cullen pulling his mantle over his shirt and breeches. He was watching her with a puzzled frown, but any time she caught his eye she simply gave him a small smile and continued what she was doing. When they were dressed she took his hand and led him out of the tent. The patrols were still circling the camp, and several small fires burned amongst the canvas tents.

            Evelyn led him through their encampment, gently tugging his hand with her fingers interlaced with his. He stared at where she held him, and a distant memory of her pulling him through the tavern at Skyhold crossed his mind. If he’d only known then how much she already cared for him, they could have avoided the few fights that followed. They could have had that much more time together, tender and loving and caring for one another through their struggles…

            Cullen glanced around as he saw that she was leading him away from the fires, into a thicket of trees nearby. He smirked a little, remembering their trip to Halamshiral. He wondered a bit if that was the memory she was thinking of as well, or possibly trying to recreate. But they reached a small clearing and he noticed she kept looking up at the sky.

            “Here we go, this should be good,” she finally murmured, and she stopped walking.

            “Love, what are we doing?” he asked at last, looking around the deserted clearing. They weren’t so far out that they would run into danger or be too far from the patrols, but they were far enough that the fires were hardly visible.

            “Stargazing,” she answered with a smile, and she sat on the grass and tugged his hand to pull him down beside her. “We’re up anyway, and it’s a nice night out.”

            He smiled, thoroughly surprised at her playful, innocent suggestion. Somehow it did seem like just what they needed at the moment. “I haven’t stargazed in ages,” he muttered, and he lay back on the grass to look above them.

            She lay back beside him, still holding his hand and nestling close to his side. “Do you know any constellations?” she asked softly.

            “I know some,” he mused, looking above them for any that were familiar to him.

            “We studied them at the Circle, but,” she gave a soft giggle. “I always had more fun making up my own.”

            He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “You did? What constellations did you come up with?”

            “It was like watching clouds, just – whatever they happened to look like,” she was smiling, scanning the skies as she spoke. “Oh! Like there, look – it looks like a Qunari’s horns, it could be Bull! See how it flares out, and then the swoop?”

            She was gesturing with her fingers above them, pointing it out for him. He chuckled when he saw it. “I’m sure he’d love being in the stars,” Cullen said.

            “And there, it looks like – oh, maybe a fennec? See the tail, there?” she gestured again, and he turned his face from the sky to watch her more intently. Suddenly the stars weren’t as beautiful, weren’t as captivating as watching her smile and imagine new constellations.

            “Did you do this on your own?” he asked, still watching her face instead of the sky.

            “I used to – I used to do it with Bron, and occasionally my mother and father,” she sighed a little. “I thought about it a lot at the Circle, and I used to sneak away to stargaze on my own sometimes, like I was trying to recreate the memories. I think maybe it made me feel like they were still my family, still with me.”

            Cullen squeezed her hand and she gave him a soft smile before she returned her gaze to the stars. He did as well, searching the stars for a familiar pattern, for something he could turn into a constellation. He began to think that she was better at this than he was. He’d studied the constellations as a young lad in Templar training, but he had always struggled to see them even when he knew what he should be looking at.

            After a few moments of peaceful searching, though, he suddenly saw one. “Oh, look, there – it could be Bianca,” he pointed it out and laughed. She frowned for a second as she looked at it and watched his gestures to find the stars he meant, and then began to giggle.

            “I think you’re right, that definitely looks like Bianca,” she sniggered. “We should tell Varric tomorrow, and point it out to him sometime. He’d certainly get a kick out of that.”

            Cullen laughed with her, and then they fell back into comfortable silence looking at the stars. He softly stroked her hand with his thumb as he held it, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he enjoyed their peaceful companionship.

            “Do you want children?” she suddenly asked, her voice a soft, wavering whisper.

            He turned to look at her, but saw that she was staring up at the stars determinedly, as if trying to steel herself for his answer. He smiled. “Yes, I do.”

            She finally turned to look at him, her mouth twitching slightly like she wanted to smile but couldn’t. “I – Cullen, if we had – they could be – they could be like me,” she murmured. He could hear the emotion behind her words, realizing how painful it was for her to admit it. How terrified she seemed to be that it would somehow be what could end everything between them for him.

            “I hope they are like you,” he answered with a broad grin.

            She frowned and shook her head. “I mean they could be mages. I just – what would you – how would you feel, what would you do?”

            “Whatever I could to protect and love them,” he replied easily. “They would be mine, and yours and that – dearest, I can’t imagine anything more perfect than that.”

            “I just – what if the Circles are reestablished? Would you send them away? Would we keep them, even if -”

            “Evelyn, it will all work out,” he squeezed her hand again to reassure her. “I promise you, everything will be all right.”

            She sighed, almost as if she didn’t believe him and looked back up at the sky. “Hawke is expecting twins,” she said softly after several moments of silence.

            He raised his eyebrows as he continued to consider the stars. “She is?”

            “Mmhmm, she wrote to Varric and told him. He showed me the letter,” she answered. “She invited us to visit after all of this is over. She wants us to meet the babies and enjoy some relaxation.”

            Cullen chuckled. “I’m not sure Hawke understands what relaxation means, she’s always too busy taking on everyone else’s problems. But that would be nice,” he shrugged. “I’d like for us to go to South Reach too, to see my family. I’d like for you to meet them.”

            “I’d like that.”

            “And – I, uh – honestly, dearest, I know we finally spoke about a future the other night,” he took a deep breath. “But I’d really like to just retire, settle down somewhere and have a lot of black haired babies just like their mother – mage or not.”

            “You really mean it? You would love them just the same?” her voice was barely a whisper.

            “Of course. Because they would be ours, because you would be their mother,” he rolled to his side and propped himself on an elbow above her. “I love everything about you, Evelyn. And nothing would make me happier than a family with you, raising children and growing old together.”

            A few tears slid down her cheek and she gave him a soft smile. “I love you,” she whispered.

            He leaned down and kissed her deeply, feeling calmer about what they were going to attempt the next day after their tender declarations under the stars. It was a reminder of why they had to succeed, and he found it was just what he had needed to steady his nerves. The image of sons and daughters that looked like her was burned into his mind, and he had never felt more confident that they could achieve their goals.

            After all, they were together – and they were much stronger when they were side by side.


	73. The Shrine of Dumat

            As soon as they approached it became clear that something was wrong.

            Smoke seemed to be billowing from the Shrine, and there weren’t any Templar forces to be seen as they first neared it.

            “Something’s not right,” Cullen muttered beside her, and she nodded.

            “Sorry Curly, it almost looks like someone tipped him off that you were coming,” Varric chimed in from behind them.

            “Proceed cautiously – it could still be a trap,” Cullen ordered, glancing over the forces they were leading.

            Evelyn steadied herself and gripped her staff tighter as they made their way forward. The gates were ajar, and it made her pause. She looked to her right to Cullen, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment before they took a deep breath and led the way together. He was readying his sword and shield, and behind her she heard Cassandra doing the same, Dorian giving his staff a small twirl in anticipation. She heard the click of Bianca being readied with an arrow.

            Cullen pushed the gates and opened them, revealing a courtyard full of several large fires, the camp within looking destroyed. For a moment it looked deserted, until a large group of Red Templars ran forward, followed by a monstrous Behemoth similar to the one that had injured Evelyn. For a moment she felt her breath catch as she remembered the pain, the agony, but then her battle instincts kicked in.

            She threw up her hand and erected her shimmering, sparkling barriers before her allies as they all charged forward to meet the Templars. She kept her distance, determining not to make the same mistake she had in Emprise du Lion by getting too close. She threw lightning at the Templars, she twirled her staff and fired off small jolts of electricity to paralyze their foes so that her allies could attack them more easily. The lightning that usually summoned itself to protect her took care of anything trying to get too close to her, her energy causing the air to buzz around her as if she were shielded by a storm cloud.

            Cullen was in the thick of things, fighting off Templars with his large sword and easily blocking blows with his shield. His skill in battle was evident just watching him, his powerful movements graceful and natural, well practiced. The helmet he wore completed his intimidating look, and again she found herself thinking that he was a mighty lion. She continually glanced his way during battle to make sure he was all right, and she became nervous when she realized he was becoming surrounded. More Templars had charged out from another side of the courtyard, and all of her allies and their forces were engrossed in battle further away. The large Behemoth was advancing in to the fray, and she saw it heading straight for Cullen, charging behind him while he was distracted. Her heart sped up. She remembered being impaled by the Behemoth in the Lion, and she instantly acted to prevent the same happening to her love.

            She focused and channeled her energy in her hand, summoning sparks between her fingers as if she were holding a ball of lightning. She took a meditative breath, the air crackled around her and several nearby Templars were suddenly struck by lightning as the storm was summoned to her. She thrust her hand in the air and concentrated, being careful not to strike anyone but their enemies.

            An orb of crackling lightning appeared above the swarm battling Cullen, and it branched out to create the cage she so often used to contain their foes when they were surrounded. The lightning enclosed the battle, and the orb rapidly released lightning bolts to hit the Templars around the Commander, and even the Behemoth was captured within her electric fury. Their enemies were paralyzed, being struck again and again by the lightning she had summoned and continued to channel. Several of them fell under the onslaught of her lightning. Their forces moved in and quickly attacked while the rest were stunned.

            She was too absorbed in focusing on her magic she barely noticed as Cullen turned to stare at her. He spun in the middle of the cage with a wild look, which was unfortunately shrouded by the helmet that covered his face. The last of the Templars fell after a few moments, Cassandra managing to take down the Behemoth by flanking it with some of their soldiers.

            Evelyn lowered her hand and the cage disappeared, the orb of lightning dissipated from the air. She bent over with her hands on her knees. She felt drained, exhausted. She looked to Dorian for a lyrium potion, intending to try to keep Cullen from seeing her drink it. She rarely used it but she didn’t know if more Templars were headed their way and she wanted to be ready. But Dorian was hurrying past her, an incredibly concerned look on his face.

            “Dor -” she began, but suddenly he was shouting to her.

            “Little bird, come here,” he demanded, and she turned to see where he was heading. He was rushing forward to Cullen, who was kneeling in the midst of the Templar bodies, trying to pull his helmet from his head, his sword and shield thrown to the ground beside him. “Little bird _now_!”

            “Cullen?” she cried and she ran forward, terror gripping her heart. She wondered if he had been injured and she hadn’t noticed. Cassandra was making her way to him as well, and Cullen seemed not to see any of them approach. At least, not until Evelyn stopped before him and crouched, reaching out to his shoulder. “Love, are you -”

            “Get away from me!" he gasped, and pulled away from her. He was looking around the ground before him as if he couldn’t really see it. He was trying to take deep breaths but he seemed unable to take anything but short gulps of air. There was pure terror in his eyes, and he almost looked like he didn’t realize where he was.

            “Cullen, are you hurt? Are you all right?” she asked, still trying to reach out to him.

            “Stop – stop, _no_ -” he continued to pull back, seemingly unable to look at her, his voice wavering. He sounded frightened.

            And suddenly she realized what had happened, and she felt her stomach lurch.

            She had been trying to help him, trying to save him from being surrounded, to protect him from the Behemoth that was coming up behind him. All of her companions had seen her use that spell before, knew the way that it surrounded the entire battle but hurt nothing but their enemies. Even many of the soldiers who were with them had been in the Lion, or the Western Approach, and had seen her trap enemies in a static cage to make it easier for everyone else to pick foes off while they were paralyzed.

            But Cullen had never been present when she had done it. They’d never been in such a large battle this close to each other. He always remained at Skyhold, or was busy handling another part of the battle like the siege at Adamant.

            She hadn’t even thought about it when she did it, hadn’t thought about what memories it might trigger, but she immediately realized it was the worst thing she could have done.

            “Love, I’m so sorry,” she hurried to reassure him, her voice choking with tears. “I – I didn’t even think about it, I was trying to protect you -”

            “Cullen?” the Seeker knelt beside him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever terror was gripping him. “Commander, can you hear me?”

            He didn’t answer, still looking like he didn’t know where he was, his lips moving in silent pleas and prayers.

            Evelyn pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sudden sobs that were threatening to escape her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless. She wanted to reach out to him, but he still seemed to be trying to pull away from her. She felt helpless, wanting to comfort him but only making it worse each time she tried. Her other companions were all trying to get him to respond, and Dorian finally turned to her and lifted her from her knees with a hand gripping her upper arm. “Come over here, little bird.”

            She let him escort her away, around a corner and out of sight from Cullen. As soon as she was around the corner she collapsed to the ground and began sobbing.

            “Evelyn, what in the Maker’s name was that?” the Tevinter asked. He sounded thoroughly disconcerted.

            “Cul – Cullen, he was – was tortured, back in Ferelden during the Blight,” she began to explain through her tears. “H-he was trapped in a – a cage. By blood mages. I didn’t even think about it, Dorian, I was just – I was trying to – to -”

            Dorian was staring at her with his brows furrowed in a sharp frown as he watched her cry. “He was tortured? By magic?”

            She nodded, unable to expand on her answer.

            “I suppose that explains quite a lot,” Dorian stepped around the corner to look at where the others were gathered. He folded his arms as he observed what was going on.

            “Is he – does he look -” she raised her teary gaze to her friend.

            “I think Cassandra’s got him talking to her,” he replied. “Yes, he looks like he’s responding.”

            “Dorian, I can’t believe I was so stupid,” she cried. “I should never have done it. I know – I know what he went through, it was just instinct -”

            “Don’t apologize for your talents, don’t apologize for using them to help all of us in the midst of battle,” the Tevinter interrupted her. “What happened to him isn’t your fault. Don’t ever apologize for the actions of horrible people – other people, who you have no control over. They’re not _you_.”

            She raised her face to see her friend staring at her with an intense look in his eyes.

            “You’re one of the best mages I’ve ever met, little bird,” he continued fiercely. “I don’t just mean your extraordinary abilities. I mean your heart, too. And I know the Commander knows that, as well. What just happened isn’t your fault. I need you to understand that. It’s those evil people who did those things to him, who tried to ruin him. Not you.”

            She gulped and took a steadying breath. Finally she nodded and began to wipe at her tears. “I just – the way he pulled away from me…” she brushed away another tear that had escaped.

            Dorian reached down to help her to her feet again, and he grasped both of her shoulders as he stared down into her face for a long moment. “He loves you, and he’s always known you’re a mage. It will be all right, Evelyn."

            She pressed her lips together and looked down. She couldn’t shake the image of the fear in Cullen’s eyes as he looked at her and cried, _“Get away from me!”_

            Footsteps sounded nearby, causing her and Dorian to look up. Cullen was approaching slowly, followed warily by Cassandra.

            “Evelyn,” he murmured, and she stepped briskly away from Dorian to close the distance between them. She hesitated before him, wanting to take him in her arms but knowing she shouldn’t. Instead she craned her neck and stared up into his face.

            “Cullen, I’m so sorry -”

            “It’s all right, don’t apologize,” he shook his head. “I – I didn’t mean it, I didn’t know where I was for a moment. I didn’t mean to tell you to get away from me, I thought I was saying it to…” But he trailed off.

            Her lips tightened as she peered up into his face. His eyes still held uncertainty and fear in them, but he looked a bit more like he was regaining his senses and knew where he was. “I understand, I was just trying to protect you. I should have realized -”

            “Thank you,” he whispered, and he pulled her into his arms. “I know you were.”

            She wrapped her arms around his back and held him tightly, his armor cold on her cheek. “I love you. I would never hurt you.”

            “I know that, love. I’m sorry if I just hurt you,” his voice was low, and it cracked as he spoke.

            She shook her head but couldn’t respond. Even though they were reassuring each other, she couldn’t shake the memory of what had just happened. She thought back to their conversation under the stars the night before, of his reassurances that he would love their children even if they were mages.

            For the moment, she couldn’t help but be filled with doubt.

 

* * *

 

            Their forces spread out and began to search the Shrine as they pushed into the interior. As far as they could tell, Samson had fled and his forces had tried to destroy what they could. Evelyn and Cullen led the way forward, and she couldn’t help but glance his way occasionally as they proceeded. He looked slightly better, but like he was trying to distract himself with the task at hand. Despite his assurances, he wasn’t looking at her as frequently as he usually did as they continued side by side.

            Through the smoke and flames they found their way to the back, which was covered in towers of red lyrium. Evelyn could hear someone coughing lightly, and hurried around the pillars of pulsating, glowing red to find the source. A Tranquil was leaning against the wall, and he watched her approach with a blank look of expectancy on his face. “Cullen,” she called softly, and she heard his footsteps as he came to join her.

            “Inquisitor,” the Tranquil greeted, and then he looked at Cullen approaching. “Knight-Captain Cullen. I knew you’d find me here.”

            “Maddox,” Cullen greeted, and he walked forward and knelt beside the man. He was frowning, studying the other man intently for a moment. “Something’s wrong, Evelyn. Send for the healers -”

            “That would be a waste of time,” Maddox interrupted calmly. “I have already drunk all of our supply of blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.”

            “Maddox, we weren’t going to hurt you,” Evelyn told him softly as she too knelt beside him. “We just wanted to ask you questions.”

            “And that was what I could not allow,” he answered. “I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

            “You gave your lives – you died like this, for _him_?” Cullen asked, and Evelyn could hear the tug of emotion in his voice.

            “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again,” Maddox answered blandly. “I wanted to help…”

            The Tranquil’s voice slowed and his head slumped forward onto his chest.

            Cullen closed his eyes and hung his head, and Evelyn reached out to his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. After a moment’s silence he pushed himself to his feet. “We should…check the camp. Maddox’s fires can’t have destroyed everything.”

            “Cullen,” Evelyn stood as well and looked between the Commander and the Tranquil. “We – we shouldn’t leave him here, he deserves to be laid to rest. Properly.”

            He held her gaze and something soft and pained passed behind his eyes. “Yes, you’re right, Evelyn. I’ll – I’ll have someone take care of it.”

            She nodded and looked down at Maddox’s body one last time before she took a deep breath and turned to search the camp. She found a desk that was untouched by the flames and approached it, and found herself surprised at what was laying on top of the pile of parchment.

            “Cullen, it’s – there’s a letter here, addressed to you,” she called.

            He quickly approached and snatched the parchment from her hands. He skimmed it, his scowl deepening as he did.

            “What does it say?” she asked.

            “Nothing useful,” he finally murmured, but he looked disturbed. “Did he expect me to make sense of this, or agree? What does he know…”

            Evelyn frowned and reached for the letter, intending to read it herself. As she skimmed it she saw that he was right – the letter seemed like the ravings of a fanatic, of a lunatic. It was addressed as if it were a personal appeal to Cullen, though, like Samson was trying to convince him to join Corypheus’ side. “Darling -” she began, but she looked up to see Cullen walking away from her.

            She hesitated, and then threw the letter back on to the desk. It was no use to them.

            “Little bird, come look at these,” she heard Dorian call, and she jogged to where his voice was coming from. He was looking over some odd tools, and she took one from him to examine. “They’re lyrium-forging implements. They’re of _remarkable_ design. They must be worth a fortune, completely unique," he told her.

            Evelyn held one out to Cullen, who had walked over to stand beside her.

            “If these are Maddox’s tools…Tranquil sometimes make their own tools to fit their own purposes. These must have been used on Samson’s armor -” he looked up at Evelyn, and a gleam came into his eyes. “They may be able to unmake his armor. We’ve – we’ve got him.”

            She smiled at him. “Let’s take these back to Dagna, then. I’m sure she can make use of them.” He returned her smile, and she could tell he was relieved that at least the journey hadn’t been a complete waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a Tumblr for who knows what reason - if you're so inclined, go find me there so you can bug me with questions or laugh at how awful I am at it (seriously, I am): https://laraslandlockedblues.tumblr.com/
> 
> xx,  
> L


	74. Fault and Favor

            When they returned to camp, Cassandra took Cullen’s arm and guided him to her tent. Evelyn was walking away to oversee the soldiers who had retrieved Maddox’s body and didn’t notice, too absorbed in her work as the Inquisitor.

            Once inside the tent Cullen heard footsteps approach and Dorian soon entered as well.

            “Dorian, we’re -” the Seeker began, but Dorian ignored her and looked at Cullen.

            “Are you all right?” the Tevinter asked, his tone clipped and firm. Cassandra gave the man a withering glare and looked thoroughly put out; no doubt that was what she had just been about to ask.

            “I’m – I’ll be fine,” Cullen murmured, unable to respond honestly.

            He had no idea how he felt. He was trying to push aside the memory of the static cage erupting around him, trying not to think of how it had plunged him back into his memories of Kinloch, of the cage he had been trapped and tortured in. He tried not to think of how breathtaking yet terrifying Evelyn had looked as she summoned it, electricity swirling the air around her as her eyes sparked and popped with her raw power. If the cage hadn’t been erected around him, if he hadn’t had those memories to fall back into, he would have instead marveled at her beauty and her incredible strength. It had been an awe-inspiring sight. But his memories had overwhelmed him until he forgot where he was.

            “You didn’t seem like you’d be fine,” Dorian mused.

            Cassandra stepped forward. “Dorian, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, and she turned back to Cullen. “Commander, was it -”

            “Cullen, you can’t blame Evelyn for this,” Dorian interjected, and Cassandra shot him another glare.

            “I – I wasn’t going to,” Cullen conceded. He frowned at the other man, staring in wonder at the determined look on his face as he stood considering the Commander with his arms folded.

            “Good,” Dorian agreed. “Because she was doing it to protect you, and now you have her hating herself for being a mage and trying to do what she could to keep you safe.”

            “Dorian -” Cassandra began warningly.

            “No, he needs to know – it wasn’t her fault,” the Tevinter cut in again. “She’s the purest, gentlest, absolute best person I know. Whatever happened to him in the past, that wasn’t her. He doesn’t need to push her away again because of his own problems, she doesn’t deserve that. Especially not when she wants to help him with them.”

            The Seeker stared at him for a moment and then turned to look at Cullen. “I actually agree,” she admitted. “Commander, you have a habit of pushing people away when your withdrawal worsens, or overwhelms you. I’d like to make a recommendation for you right now, as the person you’ve asked to watch you: Don’t.”

            Cullen looked between the pair. “I – I’ll take that into consideration,” he said, frowning.

            Dorian regarded him for a few moments, and then gave a curt nod. “Glad to see you’re all right. And for what it’s worth, whatever happened to you in the past,” he pursed his lips and paused. “I’m terribly sorry. No one deserves that.”

            Cullen returned his nod and watched as the Tevinter turned and left the tent. Cassandra waited for a moment before she stepped forward, looking as if she still intended to pursue her own line of questions. 

* * *

 

            Cullen finished his conversation with Cassandra, who wanted to determine his fitness after what had happened. She was still frowning at him with concern, but she seemed to have decided that he was fine, all things considered. He heaved a sigh as he departed her tent and made his way to his own. Evelyn was sitting beside Dorian at the fire, listening to Varric talking about red lyrium. She glanced up as he passed, but she looked hesitant when she caught his eye. Instead of moving to join her, he retired to their tent. He felt a desperate need to get out of his armor, suddenly feeling stifled by it.

            He almost thought she would follow him right away, but he spent a long time lying in their cot mulling over his thoughts before the tent flaps opened and she entered. She fidgeted with her hands for a few moments as she considered him, barely taking two steps into the tent.

            “How are you feeling?” she finally asked, her voice sounding shaky and uncertain.

            “I’m fine,” he answered, feeling it was as close to an honest answer as he could give.

            “Good, good,” she murmured, looking down at her wringing hands. “Do I – do we…I,” she took a deep breath but didn’t look up. “I can sleep in Dorian’s tent, tonight, if you need -”

            “What?” he interrupted and he sat up to look at her.

            She timidly raised her gaze to his before looking down again. “I just mean – if you need some time, I can sleep in his tent, since Bull isn’t here.”

            He hadn’t realized how much he had hurt her with his reaction, but looking at her now he felt his heart ache. For both of them. Dorian had been right; she was hating herself for her magic, he could see it in her eyes. He pushed himself off the cot and walked over to her, closing the distance between them quickly. Her clear eyes flitted up to his and back down again, looking like they were swimming with tears.

            “Love, I – no, I don’t need you to stay somewhere else,” he assured her. He took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her closer to him. “I need you here with me, always. I’m better when you’re here.”

            She hung her head and he saw a tear slide down her cheek. “I’m still so sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

            “Actually you were,” he corrected. “You were thinking about saving me. It’s not your fault that I have those memories.”

            She chuckled unexpectedly and raised her bleary gaze to his. “You sound like you’ve been speaking with Dorian.”

            He smiled at her. “I did speak with him.”

            She frowned suddenly. “You did?”

            “Yes, I spoke with him and Cassandra, while you were busy seeing to Maddox and the others,” he told her. “They were making sure I was all right, but Dorian made sure that I wasn’t somehow holding you responsible. He’s almost as protective of you as I am.”

            She nodded. “He got angry with me when I wanted to apologize for using my magic. He told me to never say I was sorry for what I could do.”

            “He’s right,” Cullen agreed softly. He watched as she raised her eyes, completely astonished as she looked at him. “I wasn’t scared of you, it was…like an instinct, it was like I got trapped back in the memory. But it wasn’t you, you didn’t do that to me. They did that to me, they tried to ruin me. They made me frightened of the talents that you have.”

            Her lips tightened but she waited for him to continue.

            “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. But words can’t express how -” he paused suddenly and then smiled. He had a feeling he knew what they both needed. He slid his hands down her arms and squeezed her fingers before he released them. He began working on the buckles of her armor. She stood with a slight frown on her face as he patiently stripped her naked. “Come here, Evelyn.”

            He took her hand and led her to their cot and encouraged her to take her place on it. He stripped out of his breeches and his shirt and climbed onto the cot with her, covering her body with his. “I love you,” he murmured and brushed her lips with his.

            “Even though I’m a mage?” she asked softly, and she immediately looked like she hadn’t meant to actually say it aloud.

            “I’ve told you from the start,” he answered with a crooked grin. “Remember that day on the battlements? You asked me if I could care for a mage, and I meant what I said. I _do_ love you.”

            She nodded and gave a weak smile, almost looking close to tears. “I love you too. I didn’t mean to frighten you or trap you in a cage -”

            He gave her a soft hush and captured her lips with his, silencing her with a deep kiss. He caressed every inch of her skin with his hands until she began to respond eagerly, no longer doubting his words as he kissed her. He sat back and rolled her onto her stomach with his hands, and she gave a soft giggle, looking over her shoulder at him with a playfully questioning stare as he repositioned himself to lie on her back.

            He kissed her, using one hand to hold her face toward him as he used the other to reach under them and excite her. He spread her thighs with his knees and thrust softly, searching her out and trying to slide within her. He eased himself inside and she let out a sharp gasp and pulled away from the kiss. “Cul – Cullen,” she moaned, and he gave her a smile as he pushed in to the hilt.

            Her head dropped to the pillow as she bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as he began moving. He’d never taken her this way. Somehow they had so far always ended up facing each other after many intense, deep kisses. He was moving slowly, feeling completely unhurried as he took her. He pushed as deeply as he could, his finger continued stroking her pearl, and one of her knees bent so that her heel was resting back against his rear. She was letting out soft whimpers, half started words that sounded like “Maker” and “Cullen.”

            He nibbled her earlobe and whispered soft nothings, promises of love and devotion, reassurances that nothing could come between them. Still he thrust slowly into her, his finger circling her sensitive nub in the constricted space between her and the cot. The sensations he associated with her excitement began to increase dramatically, her soft cries and whimpers became slightly louder. He leaned forward to where her face was turned, pressing his lips as best as he could against her mouth at this angle to stifle her sounds. He wouldn’t have bothered if they weren’t in camp, but he could tell she was about to come undone and she seemed more inclined to be loud in this position. He mentally filed that knowledge away for another time.

            She fell apart suddenly and he quickened his pace so that he could follow. He groaned against her lips as he did, softly thrusting his way through the intensity. He finally raised his mouth from hers and smiled down at her. She had her eyes closed and was trying to take deep breaths.

            “I’d say I’ll try to never doubt again,” she murmured softly. “But if this is how you reassure me, I might be tempted to doubt a bit more frequently.”

            He chuckled. “Any time, love,” he replied. “Although I think I needed that, too. It was…a trying day.”

            “That’s one way to put it,” she agreed with a smile.

            He withdrew himself from her and rolled off her back, his arms around her and pulling her with him until he could hold himself curved behind her. He slid a hand to her breast and held it as he nestled her closer to him. His mind felt clearer, and he no longer felt like the memories of the cage were waiting beneath the surface to torment him once more. Nothing made him feel more alive. Nothing was more reassuring to him that life was better now than being near her.


	75. Tainted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I know, finally an update! I feel the same way I'm certain you do. No, this fic is not dead. I felt a bit like I had written myself into a corner, since I'll be honest - it's been a long time since I played the end bits of DAI. We're getting to the Arbor Wilds and I need to figure out how I want to handle them, so updates may still be just a little slow as I try to figure that out (and probably replay the game a bit, haha).  
> In the meantime I'll still be updating other fics and this one as I can. There's still so much planned for this, don't worry. You may have noticed too that the chapter count has gone down - don't worry I've simply been trying to cut down on how long this was and changing the chapter format/cuts. Nothing has been deleted.  
> I hope you're still enjoying this and if you're still reading I appreciate it a great deal. Thank you so much! <3
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

            “Already? But we only just got back,” Cullen frowned at Evelyn, resting his forearm on the desk beside her thigh and stroking her lightly with his fingers. “How long will you be gone?”

            “I’m not certain, Varric didn’t have the best map or guess,” she sighed as she reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. “I need to go, though, Bianca made it sound like this may be one of their primary sources of red lyrium.”

            “Bianca?” he asked, incredulous. “The cross -”

            “I think the crossbow’s namesake,” she giggled. “It was odd to put a face to the name. Or at least, a real face to the name. I’d gotten so used to Bianca just being a crossbow and not a person.”

            Cullen chuckled and shook his head. “Are you leaving in the morning, at least? I – I’d hate to miss a chance to send you off with some fond memories.”

            A sweet smile came upon her face as she nodded. “Yes, we’re leaving at dawn. So you have me tonight, at least.”

            “Good,” he murmured and stretched up to meet her lips with his. “I’ll miss you dearly. I was looking forward to having some time here, in our bed.”

            “‘Our bed?’” she repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

            He grinned a little sheepishly. “You spend every night in it as well. I think it’s stopped being just my bed. Although I’ve never asked, we could sleep in your quarters instead, if you’d like. I know my loft has a hole in the roof -”

            He trailed off when he saw her shaking her head. “No, love, I’m perfectly happy staying here all the time. Something about it is just…comfortable. Hole in the roof and all.”

            He pressed another kiss to her lips and after a few moments she excused herself to prepare for her journey the next morning. The afternoon and evening passed quickly considering how much work he needed to catch up on, but he found himself almost irritated at how quickly time was passing. It only meant it was closer to her leaving again, and weeks without her daily smile, her kisses, or holding her in his arms every night.

            When night fell she came to his office, and with soft words and tender smiles she gently coaxed him into giving his work up for the night so he could join her in their bed. It felt so natural to think about it that way, and the climb up to the loft behind her felt commonplace and welcome.

            He stripped out of his armor while she stripped down to nothing, and she sat watching him from the bed as he tried to hurry. Seeing her sit naked in the middle of the bed set his heart racing, and he found himself forgetting about the hardships they had faced in the last few days as he drank in the sight of her. When he had finally finished hanging his armor on its stand he took a few long strides to reach the bed and threw aside his shirt and breeches, enjoying the way she watched him so eagerly.

            “I hate having to send you away, all the time,” he said as he knelt on the bed before her. “Although I’ll admit, I love you coming home to me. I look forward to it every time.”

            He slid his hand along her cheek into her hair and pulled her to him, devouring her mouth with his and holding her tightly as he caressed her with his other hand. She eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck and scooted forward on her knees, trying to get closer to him.

            Their hands explored the familiar, secret parts of each other’s bodies, no longer hesitant or shy like they had once been. He had never been so comfortable with someone, had never been so casually intimate or felt like he knew their body better than they knew it. Every movement of his against Evelyn brought a gasp or a moan to her throat, her fingers tightening on whatever part of him she was holding as she responded to his touch.

            When he pulled her into his lap she clung more tightly to him as they kissed, and let him guide her hips until he was pressing against the wet heat between her legs. “Evelyn, I want to feel you, I want to hear you,” he murmured against her lips. “If I’m going to be left with only memories for a few weeks, let’s make some new ones.”

            She smiled and tugged his lip gently between her teeth as she slowly slid herself down his shaft until she covered him. He groaned, his head rolling back on his shoulders as he took her hips in his hands. She was showering his face and neck with kisses, whispering sweet words of love as she began to bounce herself on him.

            Their movements against each other held all of their pent up emotions, from the events of the Shrine and the fact that she was leaving again immediately after they had returned. He thrust up eagerly to meet her, filling her and burying himself as deep within her as he could in his desperation to get as close to her as he possibly could. He moaned her name against her lips before he greedily slid his mouth down her neck, pausing and sucking it gently on occasion. Normally he tried not to mark her, but in that moment he felt like their lovemaking was _possession_ , and he wanted to see the soft pink marks of his mouth on her creamy skin.

            Her fingers were raking through the hair on the back of his head, and when he lightly bit her neck she cried out and quickened her pace against him. “Cullen,” she gasped, “Maker you feel so good, you always feel like – like I was made for you, like we belong -”

            “We do, love,” he gripped her hips more firmly so that they both pushed more closely to the edge. “We belong to each other, always,” he whispered, and he repeated the assertion several times as he listened to her whimpering his name.

            They fell apart together, desperately clinging to one another as they shuddered and called soft prayers to the Maker, tangling words of love with each other’s names. When they finally stilled they held tight, not moving or separating for several minutes before he laid her back onto the bed. He propped himself above her and tenderly kissed her, staring down into her eyes as he smiled.

            “Promise me you’ll come home safe,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Evelyn.”

            “I promise,” she whispered. “Of course I will. I’ll never leave you alone.”

           

 

 

            Now that she was gone again, time passed more slowly and burying himself in his work felt less satisfying. His mind was still conjuring the memories of the static cage and the events of the Shrine, despite the fact that he tried to ignore them and tell himself that everything was all right. Without her reassuring smile and angelic voice, though, it was more difficult to steady his nerves and remind himself that Kinloch, Uldred, and the demon could never hurt him ever again. Her presence was calming, soothing – she was something brand new, unaffiliated with his life before, and every time she looked at him he felt the darkness of his past dissipate.

            But his memories were tainted, now, every time he thought of the static cage she had cast around him. He couldn’t shake the feelings it had conjured, and his usually comforting thoughts of her were tinged with anxiety, with fear and shame.

            He hated that after all of these years, Kinloch was still haunting him and ruining the one thing he had in his life that made him feel like he had a handle on everything, like he could be normal.

            He hated that those memories were ruining his happiness with her, his love, the feelings he got when he thought about having her beside him.

            His inner turmoil began to cast a black mood over him until he was snapping at scouts and glowering at everyone he passed. He was irritable in war councils and his headaches worsened as he sat alone in his tower filling out requisitions and reports.

            A few days passed like this, and he resigned himself to never feeling the happiness he had before, to never sleeping as deeply as he finally had been. When a knock sounded on his door he loudly called out admittance, his teeth grinding against each other in his deep irritation at being disturbed.

            Lord Trevelyan poked his head in, and frowned immediately when he saw the scowl on Cullen’s face. “I’m sorry, Commander, am I interrupting? I can always come back later.”

            “No, it’s fine, my lord,” he waved his hand to encourage the other man in, though he didn’t really feel like talking. He was going to bring up Evelyn, and his mood was already black enough as it was. And he hated that that was how he currently felt about discussing his lover, which only made his scowl worse.

            “I feel like I’ve caught you at a bad time,” the older man said as he sat down across from Cullen.

            “There’s just been a lot of work to catch up on since I got back,” Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples.

            “Yes, I’m certain there has been,” Lord Trevelyan nodded thoughtfully. “I understood from Evie that your journey was – trying, to put it mildly.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows and stared at the other man for a long moment. “Did she tell you about the Shrine? A-about what happened?”

            Lord Trevelyan pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “She told me enough. She was upset and looking for reassurance, she seemed to think there was a chance you were still bothered by her magic, even though you told her you weren’t.”

            Cullen chafed under the man’s piercing gaze and tugged at the collar of his armor, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “It’s complicated,” he sighed. He hadn’t thought that she was still concerned, since she hadn’t acted like she was around him. He wished he had known, he would have tried to talk with her about it.

            “It – brought up some shameful memories for me, I’ll admit,” the older man said. He didn’t press Cullen for any details of his past, instead seeming intent on saying what he had come to say.

            “Such as?” Cullen prompted after several moments of silence.

            “I’ve lost much, in my life,” the lord began slowly. “Each wound hurts in its own way, varying degrees of pain that I carry with me like scars. Some are easier – we always knew that Bron was ill, that he wouldn’t last into adulthood. It was horrible, losing him, but not unexpected. Evelyn’s mother, on the other hand – I knew she hadn’t taken it well, especially not after losing Evie to the Circle years before. I saw the signs of her troubles, even if I didn’t acknowledge them. That’s a mistake I will carry with me forever. But…”

            Silence fell as Lord Trevelyan stared at the wall to his right, his cheeks flexing as he thought and mulled over everything he was sharing.

            “Nothing was more painful than discovering Evie was a mage,” he finally continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I still remember it, seeing the way that she so easily used her magic on Bron’s head, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember too the fear that I felt, in the pit of my stomach, when I realized what it meant.”

            Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Fear?”

            “Yes,” Lord Trevelyan sighed. “I tried to tell myself I was scared _for_ her, that I was scared what could happen to her. I knew the Circle wouldn’t be an easy life, but I also knew that life outside of the Circle would be worse. But – that was a lie I told myself to feel better.”

            He looked at Cullen and held his gaze, considering for a minute before he shook his head. “I wasn’t scared for her, though. I was scared _of_ her,” he confessed softly. “Seeing her use magic on my son – a son already so delicate it was precarious everyday whether or not he was going to live – it was terrifying. It was obvious how much raw power she had, even then. It was clear that she was a force to be reckoned with. And suddenly, I wasn’t looking at my daughter. I was looking at a potential threat to my family.”

            Silence fell again as Cullen absorbed his words, and Lord Trevelyan stared down at his hands, temporarily lost in thought.

            “It was the hardest moment of my life, watching the Templars escort my little girl away from me,” he whispered. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. It was because, deep down, I was relieved. I was thankful to see her go. And I – I will never be free of that, that shameful relief that I felt as my daughter was being taken away from me.”

            Cullen stared at the man across from him, at a loss for words to respond to the man’s painful confession. In a way, in a horrible way, he understood the emotions her father was grappling with, that it was obvious had plagued him for so many years.

            “She didn’t tell me about your past, just that it was troubled and made you distrust magic,” Lord Trevelyan said after taking a deep breath to steady his voice. “I just wanted you to know – even without cause, fear of magic can infect us all, even against those we love most in this world. But I know – I know that you care for her deeply, and I must say even after all of these years, even after everything she has gone through, Evie still has the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. She will never hurt you, and if there ever was a mage you should trust, it’s her. Please,” he looked up at Cullen, a pleading look in his eyes. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t let your fear of magic push her away from you, don’t let it taint how you think of her. I wish – I wish I hadn’t. But I’ll never get those years back. You, however, can keep from making the same mistake. I just – I wanted to tell you. I felt like if anyone should hear my confession, it should be you.”


End file.
